Such Wicked Intent (28 page)

“What is that?” Henry asked.

“The spirit elixir,” I said. “Her own private store. You meant
to make the baby tonight and take it into the spirit world for the pit god to inhabit—right away.”

She looked astounded, and then gave a small nod, as if remembering.

We were all silent for a moment, imagining Elizabeth rearing the pit god as it grew with freakish speed into its full giant form.

“You said you were meant to be its mate,” Henry said, looking ill.

“Dear God,” she murmured. “What have we done?”

The immensity of it was almost too much to grasp.

“That thing, that pit god—”

“Please don’t call it a god,” said Elizabeth fiercely. “It can only be a demon.”

“It stole from us to make itself strong,” I said. “Every time a butterfly spirit touched us, it stole our energy and used it to wake the demon. And whenever I brought a butterfly out from the spirit world and then returned, it was bloated with my life—I saw it—and carried that to the demon too.”

“Why weren’t you possessed like me, then?” Elizabeth asked.

I rubbed at my bruised head. “I
was
, just differently. Your spirit promised you Konrad. Mine promised me knowledge and power and release from pain. And it needed me to keep coming back for more so I could wake the demon from its slumber.”

I looked at Henry cautiously. “And no doubt you have one on you as well, my friend.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Me?”

“How else do you explain this new valor and confidence?”

He looked away shamefaced for a moment, but when he looked back, there was defiance in his eyes. Wearily I wondered if I would have another fight ahead of me.

“Check me, then,” he said.

We placed the remaining lanterns nearby, and Elizabeth turned away as he disrobed. I checked every inch of his body, with growing consternation.

“Incredible,” I said. There is nothing on you. Nothing.”

“Ah,” he said wryly.

“I don’t understand how…”

“Perhaps, Victor,” he said, pulling his shirt back on, “some people can just change all on their own.”

I sank down onto the dirt floor, exhausted, sickened by the noxious vapors still emanating from the charred remains of the mud creature.

“We have to go back and warn Konrad and Analiese,” I said. “We have to finally destroy that thing in the pit.”

“Can we truly destroy it, though?” Henry said.

“We have to try!” I said, standing. “And now!”

“Just wait, Victor,” Henry said, lifting his hand. “You yourself said it wasn’t fully born, that it needed our lives to waken it.”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Well, then, if it gets no more life energy from us, it can’t be born. And maybe, if it’s starved, it’ll go back to what it was, an ancient block of stone.”

“You’re suggesting we never go back inside again?” Elizabeth said, her pain obvious in her voice.

“Can we risk it?” Henry asked us. “There are too many
butterflies now, and they’re devious. If even one feeds on us, that might be all it takes to unleash the pit demon.”

His logic was true; it was also unbearable.

“But I promised I’d go back,” I said. “I said I’d think of something…”

“Henry’s right. There’s nothing you can do,” Elizabeth said quietly. “If only we hadn’t interfered from the start. At least this way Konrad will be gathered and will find his new home. Which is as it should be.”

“I won’t accept it,” I said. “There must—”

“Accept it, Victor,” Henry told me.

“No.”

In my dream I’d seen him. He’d been ahead of me on the ice, but I was going to catch up.

And suddenly I had my answer. It was such an obvious one.

I flung open the cottage door and ran, ignoring the urgent calls of Henry and Elizabeth. Where my strength and speed came from, I didn’t know, but I sprinted through the night. They could not keep up as I bolted back to Château Frankenstein, to bring my brother back to life.

F
OR A SECOND
I
LIE VERY STILL ON MY BED, LOOKING ALL ABOUT
my room. There’s no sign of black butterflies lying in wait like vampire bats. Outside my windows the eerie white mist gathers angrily and thumps against the glass. I’m suddenly aware that this is the second time I’ve entered the spirit world in a single day—something the instructions warned us was dangerous. But it’s too late for worries now. Hastily I steal from my bedchamber and make my way down the hall, checking in Konrad’s room. Empty.

I won’t call out. I want no unwanted attention. As I put my hand upon the library door, a shrill howl of frustration rises up from the depths of the house, sending my heart into a gallop. But at least I know that thing is still trapped in its pit.

When I open the door, I fully expect to find Konrad here, armed, a crossbow aimed at the secret doorway. The weapons are still laid out ready on the table, but the library is abandoned except for a small cluster of butterflies. I close the door quickly behind me, hoping they didn’t sense my presence. I slip down the great staircase and make my way toward the armory. The house is so quiet and still.

What if Konrad has already been gathered? The thought should make me happy, but a spasm of sadness racks me. I will never see him again, and our parting was such a bitter one.

The armory, too, is empty. I walk past our ancient chapel and
stop to peer inside. My heart unclenches, for I see him sitting alone in a pew near the altar, hands clasped in prayer. Warily I look all around, and see no black butterflies. I enter.

“Konrad,” I whisper.

He turns in astonishment.

“Victor!”

“Shhh!”

He stands, walks toward me, scarcely squinting, his kind face furrowed with regret. “I’m sorry. My behavior last time, it was ugly.”

“Never mind. I understand completely.” I take a breath. “The creature in the pit seems to be staying put.”

“It howls, but I can’t bring myself to go down to look.”

I quickly tell him what happened after we left him, including what just passed in the cottage.

“The body you grew truly was malignant, then,” he says. He smiles bravely. “There’s no hope of my returning. Victor, you must go. Tell Elizabeth I love her, and tell Henry he was my dearest friend, and
go
.”

“I won’t say good-bye to you this way.”

“There’s no way out for me, Victor! Resign yourself. I have.”

“You needn’t.”

He shakes his head and almost laughs. “Victor, when will you stop playing God?”

Beyond the narrow stained-glass windows, the spectral wind wails, shaking the casements.

“Konrad, I’ve got a way for you to return. The simplest of ways.”

He says nothing, his brow creased.

From my hand I take my ring talisman. From my pocket I take the spirit clock. Both of them I place on the pew and step back.

Konrad stares at them.

“Do you understand?” I ask.

He swallows. “Don’t do this, Victor.”

“Take them. Take my body.”

He is silent.

“Come,” I say with a chuckle meant to be jocular, but it comes out sounding parched. “It’s not such a bad deal for you. Only three fingers on the right hand, and a difficult personality, but you can take care of that in short order. Your soul was always the better.”

“You can’t mean this,” he whispers.

“Why do I deserve life when you’ve lost yours? Elizabeth is yours, and she’ll never love anyone as she loves you. I’ve promised you so many things. And I’ve not made good on any of them. This time I deliver. Take them and go.
Now!
”

He cannot rip his gaze from my ring and clock, the two things that will take him back to the real world, in my body. I can see the hunger in his eyes.

“Don’t tempt me this way,” he murmurs.

“For God’s sake, Konrad,” I growl, “don’t be a bloody fool. Do it before I change my mind!”

He takes a step closer to the ring and clock. “It’s like murder, don’t you see?” he says. “It is me stealing your life.”

“No. I’m
giving
it to you!”

He tears his gaze away and looks at me. “Your light’s dimmer than ever, Victor, and scarcely any heat comes off you. You’ve
weakened yourself more just coming here. Now say good-bye to me, Victor. And do not come back!”

I shake my head.

He storms out of the chapel. I stand there, and wait. He’ll return. How can he resist such an offer? I couldn’t. But he doesn’t come back. The stubborn idiot! Doesn’t he know what it cost me to make such an offer? Does he think I can be noble for much longer? Cursing under my breath, I pocket the ring and spirit clock and go to find him.

In the hallway I see Analiese at the foot of the great staircase.

“Analiese,” I call out, surprising her, “have you seen Konrad?”

“Going upstairs in great distress. I was about to follow to see what the matter was.”

“It was my doing,” I tell her. Her face is so sympathetic, I find myself telling her about our conversation, the offer I made.

For a moment she says nothing, and when she does, her voice is thick with emotion. “From the very first your love for your brother was obvious, but I don’t think I’ve ever known such selflessness.”

She has never been so close to me, and she is so beautiful. If I reached out, I could touch her.

“Are you really so willing to part with your life?” she asks me.

I look away. “I can’t fail him again. If this is to be the only way, so be it.” I think of Elizabeth in anguish, knowing she’ll never properly love me, knowing my very nature makes me unlovable. I think of my many faults, the unceasing pain in my hand. Right now to be free of these things would be almost a relief.

“Did you know,” Analiese says calmly, “that your light has gone out altogether?”

Stupidly I hold out my arms, as if I’ll see a difference. How could this happen? Panicked, I cast around, but I see no sign of colorful butterflies. Then I look down. On the floor three of them scuttle silently under my pants and up my legs. Whirling, I look over my shoulder and see six of them on my back, blazing with light, feeding on me.

“Did you see them coming?” I cry out, knocking them off in a crazed fury. I try to catch some of them as they abscond with the last of my light, but they are hummingbird-quick.

Devastated, I turn back to Analiese, and she punches me hard in the face. This is no breezy touch, like the last time Konrad struck me. This is real contact, without any protective veil. Her fist snaps my head back with a sickening crack, and my legs buckle. I hit the floor. Dazed, I watch as this small young woman strides toward me with a terrifying detachment and kicks me in the stomach. A wave of nausea breaks through me, stealing my breath.

“Your idea isn’t new, you know,” she says as she plunges her hands into my pockets and plucks out the spirit clock and ring. “A clever fellow thought of it some three hundred years ago when he stole
my
body.”

As I cough and retch, she steps back, mutters some words I don’t comprehend, and grasps the neckline of her black dress. A single downward rip, and the dress explodes toward me like a jigsaw puzzle, each piece a black butterfly, its wings perforated with suture marks and trailing the threads that
once bound it into this supernatural fabric. When the cloud of butterflies disperses, I see that Analiese is gone and before me stands Wilhelm Frankenstein, as though he’s just stepped from his portrait.

“I lingered too long here, just like you,” he says, “seduced by the power of the place. I didn’t realize that my living presence woke the monster from its slumber. There were other human spirits here then, and I became too friendly with one of them. He waited till I lost my light, then stole my talisman and rode off in my body.”

I start to push myself to my feet, but with a savage, well-aimed kick he knocks my legs out from beneath.

“But now,” he says, “your life is mine.”

He is already running. I scramble up and give chase, down the hallway toward the grand staircase.

“Stop!” I bellow like a child. “You can’t leave me here!”

At the top of the stairs he turns instinctively toward my bedchamber, drawn by my ring. I know this is a race I must not lose, and I put on a burst of speed. Halfway down the hallway I hurl myself at his legs and bring him to the floor. I still have some strength left. I punch at him, trying to claw the ring from his finger.

From beneath the château rises the loudest, most terrifying shriek I’ve yet heard—because this one is unmistakably filled with triumph.

For a split second Wilhelm’s eyes meet mine, and I see his utter horror. Then he drives an elbow into my face and sends me skidding against the wall.

He’s up again, running, hurtling through the doorway of my bedchamber.

“No!” I roar. I burst in, murderous with fury, and see him reclining on my bed, clutching the spirit clock and ring. I launch myself at him, ready to bite his hand off if need be—

But he’s gone. I land atop an empty bed.

Panic pounds at all the doors of my mind, hungry for entry. I touch my chest, grip my arms. The missing fingers of my right hand are still there, but they are fiery with pain. I can’t be dead. Nothing dead could feel such pain. My body lives on, elsewhere, but inhabited by another. I jump off my bed and pace the room, as though some other exit will magically present itself.

This isn’t happening. It’s not true. Please let it not be true.

Black butterflies swirl about my room but leave me unmolested. I’m no use to them anymore.

“No, no!” I bellow, and sink to the floor.

And the moment my eyes shut, I am seeing—

*   *   *

—through the eyes of another. I am in my room, sitting up on the edge of my bed as Henry and Elizabeth burst in, their faces alive with dread.

“Did you go back inside?” Henry demands.

“I needed to make sure all was well,” I hear my voice—my very own voice—say. And I realize I’m seeing through the eyes of my thief, Wilhelm Frankenstein. The sensation is indescribable, to be within and without oneself simultaneously, to hear myself, to feel myself move, without having any control whatsoever.