Twenty-Two Hail horrors, hail infernal world

ALL MY MANY YEARS of tailoring my emotions to fit others’ needs, of making certain I showed only what was expedient, of training myself to be someone else’s, failed me.

I was unable to pretend.

“Victor.” My voice trembled as the scaffolding of my life fell away to reveal a ruinous and terrible mausoleum where I had sought to build a home. “Did you kill your brother?”

“Which one?” His question was genuine; there was no teasing in his voice. He entered the room and sat on the bench at the foot of the bed, crossing one leg over the other knee.

I gasped out a choking laugh of shock and disbelief. “Which one?”

He raised an eyebrow, as though I were the one being confusing. “I have two dead brothers. I suppose I did kill Robert, but it was an accident. I was just curious.”

“Who is Robert?” My mind whirled as it tried to fill in the past with this new information.

“My first brother. The one who died as an infant.”

“I am not talking about that! I have never asked you about that!”

He frowned at my shrill tone. “I know. Because you understand me.”

I stood, buzzing and numb at the same time. I was going to fly apart. I clasped my hands tightly in front of myself to keep them from shaking. “I am talking about William. Did you kill William?”

He said nothing, blinking several times as his eyebrows drew close together. I had always loved that expression, loved the thoughts that churned mysteriously behind it. Now I wanted to carve it from his face.

He finally spoke, with the careful, soothing tone I had always used on him. “I was not yet back in Geneva. And Justine was found with damning evidence.”

“I taught you how to plant blame!” I jabbed a finger toward him in accusation. “And you agreed with me that Justine was innocent! You were as convinced as I that she was not guilty! It was because you knew the identity of the murderer. All this time, I thought that you knew and could not say because no one would believe you that the monster existed. But you knew and could not say because it was you!”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You were never supposed to see the monster. I am humiliated.”

“You are humiliated? That is your response?”

He shook his head and turned, as though considering walking out the door. But he took a deep breath, steeling himself. “I can see that this is upsetting you. I knew it would. Why have you insisted on chasing after the things I keep hidden for your own benefit? You are my angel, Elizabeth, and I have ever endeavored to keep you ignorant of the less savory requirements of my work.”

I staggered back, leaning against the wall lest I fall to the floor. “So you did. You murdered your child brother. And then you framed my dearest friend so that she would be killed for it.”

His eyes flashed, and all ease left his posture. “I am your dearest friend.”

The enormity of my culpability threatened to overwhelm me. “Did she— Did you pick her because I loved her?” A new realization stole my breath. “Did you kill Henry, too? Is that why no one has heard from him since he left for England?”

“Henry is alive, and the world is much more wretched for his presence in it. And as for my motivations with Justine, do not be petty,” he snarled, his very denial confirming he had killed her out of jealousy. “I needed a healthy young body. My previous attempt was chaotic. I had to work with so many parts. Unsure of my technique, I made everything larger so it would be easier to see and manipulate. I used animal pieces to adapt for size and shape. I thought it would be wonderful. Something new. But it was an abomination. I could not repeat that mistake. I needed to refine the process. To perfect it. To work with a single body, or as close as I could get, instead of so many different ones.”

“I saw her.” A sob escaped me. Even now I saw Justine, carved with Victor’s violent quest for control. When I thought of her, I more often saw her dead face than her beloved living one. Victor had taken her from me in memory now, too. “I dug her grave myself.”

You took her?” His fists clenched, white skin pulled taut over the knuckles I had kissed to remind him to release that tension. The hands I had held and looked to for protection. The hands that had strangled William and framed Justine! He took a step toward me. “How dare you follow me! You were told to stay. I gave you every opportunity to be innocent. If you are upset, it is your own fault.”

“I thought I was protecting you! I thought the monster was stalking you, and that I would save you!” I waved my journal at him, then threw it to the floor. “I wanted to protect you as I thought you had protected me. But it was all you. You had her on a table like a slaughtered calf! You snuffed out the brightest, purest light in the world so you could possess the flesh of it.”

He snorted derisively. “You overestimate her value. She was simple. Not even intelligent. What would she have contributed to the world if she had lived another decade, three, even four more? Nothing. And now her body is wasted. In death, she was to serve the highest purpose there is.”

“She loved your brothers! She raised them!”

Victor brushed his fingers dismissively through the air. “Anyone can teach a child. Governesses are interchangeable. You had no qualms about getting rid of Gerta.”

“We did not kill Gerta!” I hesitated, then covered my mouth in horror. Gerta had gone, had disappeared an hour after Victor left me. We had never heard from her again.

Victor had solved the problem for me.

His look of condescending annoyance would have frozen me previously, made me immediately change course. Even now I flinched from it. His lip curled. “You cannot complain that you dislike the method, when so many of the methods were of your own design. You made it clear from the start you did not care what I did so long as you did not have to know the specifics. It was our agreement!”

“No. No, no, no. I never asked for this. I never wanted this.” I longed to pace, to curl into a ball, to run screaming at him and strike him. Instead, I stood there and stared at the boy I had always known, the boy I had thought I knew better than myself. I was looking at a stranger, yet I understood every flicker of emotion on his face. It was too much for me to reconcile.

And still I did not understand. “Why would you do any of it? Why would you take Justine like that? Why would you even think of creating a mate for the monster?”

He frowned, tilting his head in confusion. “Why would I give anything to that loathsome creature? As soon as it took its first breath, I knew I had fallen infinitely short of my goals. You have seen it. You understand. It was an abortive mistake, a repugnant error. That it has continued to haunt me, watching me, threatening me, is my own punishment for failing so spectacularly in my pursuit of perfection.”

“What perfection can you hope to find in death?”

He lifted his eyes to the ceiling and gave a minute shake of his head. “You do not understand. You have never understood these things. You, who can appreciate the beauty of the world so easily without ever wanting to go deeper—I have done all this for you. To save you.”

“To save me from what? The greatest suffering of my life has been in the last few weeks, and has been at your unseen hands!”

He moved toward me in an explosive burst. I shrank back against the wall. He was between me and the door. His anger was mounting, but he still seemed in possession of himself. I was here to soothe him, after all.

I would never soothe him again.

He grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me with the strength of his terrible grip. “Suffering is temporary! And so are you! I almost lost you. You would have died, leaving me here alone. When I saw you on your sickbed, inching ever further out of my reach, I swore I would never let that happen. You are mine. You belong to me. And I will be damned if I let the sickening frailty of flesh take you from me. Do you think I enjoyed what I had to do? I hated it. But I had to do it. All my work, all my sacrifice, has been for a single purpose: I am going to defy death. I am going to steal the spark of creation from it, to make life eternal, untouchable by corruption. And I am doing it for you. When I succeed—and I will succeed—then you will count yourself the most blessed creature on God’s earth, because you will no longer be subject to Him. I will step into that place. I will be your god, Elizabeth. I will re-create you in my image, and we will have our Eden. And it will never be taken from us.”

“You are mad.” My voice trembled, but I could contain my fury. And I could wield his own as a weapon against him. He was already on the edge of losing himself to his blind passions. I just needed to push him. “I feared you were mad when I saw your laboratory in Ingolstadt. I protected you by destroying it. I should have known that the danger was what you carried inside—in your mind, in whatever you have where a soul should be. You are mad, and I will have nothing to do with your sick perversion of Eden. You say you created an abomination? You are one, Victor. You made a monster because that is all you are capable of being yourself. I am finished with you.”

I braced myself for one of his rages. I was counting on it. He would lose his ability to function rationally, devolving into a pure destructive force. I could escape then. I would run to town and summon the constable. If he struck me, it would help my case.

But Victor only sighed. He released my shoulders, then walked to the door, closed it, and locked it. His actions were so much the opposite of what I had expected that I simply stood watching. If he had attacked, I would have fought back. Instead, he leaned against the door. He looked so cross, I had to tamp down my instinct to divert his attentions and make him smile instead.

“This is not how I wanted tonight to go. I need more time. I am not ready for you yet. I will not risk any accidents or failures when it is your turn. I would have been so close, but, thanks to your help when you burned my first laboratory, I lost my journal and all my notes. And then I lost any progress I had made on the body in the Orkneys.”

I trembled with rage. I was ready to attack him now. “Her name was Justine.”

He let out a noise of impatience. “You still do not understand. I knew you would not. You were never strong enough mentally or emotionally for this task. You will just have to be patient. After you are changed, perfected by me, I know you will finally be grateful.”

I laughed, a harsh sound, like the carrion bird I had found that day in his laboratory, pecking at his trunk filled with terrible violence and worse intent. “We are finished. I will never stay with you. I will fight you. I will stop you. You are truly insane if you think for one second I will ever show you any kindness or gratitude again.”

He took a deep breath. When he looked down at the carpet, I lunged. I threw myself at him with all the rage and pain I possessed. I clawed at his face, aiming for his eyes. He caught my hands and twisted them, throwing me to the floor. He put his knee into the small of my back before I could rise. I tried to hit him, but he pinned one arm behind me, the other trapped beneath me. I struggled, screaming. But as slight as Victor was, I was no match for him.

I fought with fury; he, with the cold determination of a murderer. Only one of us was aware of how far they could go. I pressed my face into the rug, squeezing my eyes shut. I could not win this fight. I would have to figure something else out. I would have to be smart. Maybe I could—

“We have always been a team,” Victor said, increasing the pressure of his knee as he shifted, doing something I could not see. “Once again, you have provided the solution I needed. You went to such lengths to hide my work, knowing that anyone who saw it would think me a lunatic. Would immediately imprison me for my own safety.” He laughed. Then he cleared his throat, and his tone of voice changed. “My poor beloved wife. On our wedding night, too overwhelmed by the death of little William at the hands of the woman she chose to care for him, Elizabeth’s mind broke. You will see, sympathetic doctors, this journal in her own hand. Look at her writings about journeys she never took. No one in England, Inverness, or anywhere will recall a young woman named Elizabeth. She imagined the whole thing! And the monsters—creatures of darkness and death—that she sees in the world around her! Oh, how it breaks my heart! But I know she will be safe in this asylum. She will be safe, and secure, and patiently locked away to anticipate the day I am ready to retrieve her.” He set something down on the floor by my side, then gently stroked my hair. “Do you think I should talk more about what you have been through? Perhaps lingering on your guilt over trusting Justine when she was clearly plotting to murder William? If only Henry were here to write it for me like one of his pathetic plays…Well. I will practice.”

I wanted to twist my head, to bite his hand where it still stroked my hair. But that would look like evidence in his favor. I would need my wits about me in order to argue my way free from this when he brought in the constables. I could try to run as soon as he released me, but I feared that would support his case more than mine. And where would I run to?

No. I would be calm. Dispassionate. I would explain his history and temper, try to provoke him again into a rage. I would be—

A sharp jab stung my neck, followed by a rushing, burning sensation. It flooded the veins there and traveled through my body.

“Sleep.” Victor’s lips brushed my ear as he stroked my hair. “Sleep, and know that I will take care of everything.”