Monster

Frankenstein raised her so that she could clearly see his lips.

“My dear Sophie,” he said, mouthing his words slowly. “You could not believe my surprise in learning what a devious creature you are, pretending as if you were nothing but an imbecilic novelty, when in fact you hold true intelligence. I am disappointed in you after all the hours in which I have petted you and let you suckle on my finger. The question I have for you, my dear Sophie, is why did you act in such an ungrateful manner? But first, answer me, are you capable of hearing words or only reading lips?”

Charlotte was too afraid to answer him, and Frankenstein in his impatience took hold of her earlobe and twisted it. Her skin, being so dry and fragile, ripped off in Frankenstein’s fingers. This only enraged him more, and he took hold of the stump that remained and pinched it. It was heartbreaking to see the way Charlotte’s face became rigid with pain. Frankenstein demanded again that she answer him, but she was incapable of doing so.

“Hand her to me,” I implored.

My words broke through the petulance that held Frankenstein. He smiled cruelly at me and handed me Charlotte, announcing how he would not think of keeping two dear companions as us apart.

I mouthed my words to her, turning away so that Frankenstein would remain ignorant of what I was saying.

I am so sorry. I could not help myself from betraying you. The black magic that he deployed on me while I was his prisoner has left me powerless to resist him, otherwise I would have torn him to pieces instead. I am so sorry.

She favored me with the most heartrending smile I had ever seen.

My dearest Friedrich, how could I blame you for another man’s cruelty? But I do ask a great favor of you. Please end my misery. I implore you.

A terrible thickness settled in my throat. I attempted to wrinkle a smile toward her but failed miserably.

Must I be your executioner?

Friedrich, my dear friend, I know this is a terrible burden that I am placing on you, but I beg of you. I cannot stand this. If you still hold any warm feelings toward me, please perform this one last act of kindness.

From out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Frankenstein was trying to follow our conversation. Amazement showed in his expression as he raised his gaze to better observe me.

“Are you actually weeping tears for this thing?” he asked incredulously.

“How do I end her life?”

“My pet, or should I say, Friedrich, for although you are my servant, I wish to think of you more as my partner. This mercy toward this thing that you believe you feel is not real. It cannot be. For you do not have a soul. How could you? You were constructed out of material, so how could you have a soul?”

I trembled as I again asked how I could end Charlotte’s life.

“This is ridiculous,” he stated, his eyes darkening with annoyance. “Friedrich, these fine sentiments that you believe you have are imaginary. They are simply remnants remaining within your brain from your previous existence. But they will fade. Ignore these false feelings now, my friend, for they are worthless.”

“How do I end her life!” I demanded, my voice a harsh bellow.

A change fell over his eyes, from petulance to amusement. “Never let it be said that Victor Frankenstein cannot be magnanimous,” he said in a cloying manner. “You wish to be a slave for now to these false sentiments, fine. If you remove her head from the bowl, she will die. Very painfully, I suppose, and over the course of several hours.”

“There must be another way.”

“A more humane way?” His lips crept up to make his smile even more vindictive. “You cannot smother her for she does not breathe, at least not in the way that we do. I suppose you could crush her skull. Go ahead, Friedrich, perform this ridiculous act of charity if you insist.”

I dreaded that this would be his answer, but I could not see any other way. I placed the bowl on the floor and gingerly removed Charlotte from it. I mouthed to her how sorry I was, and she smiled and mouthed back to me that she would forever be grateful to me. I squeezed my eyes tight and after saying a silent prayer for Charlotte’s soul, crushed her skull in my hands as if it were little more than a papier-mâché mask. Her remains crumbled into dust, and I placed them in the bowl.

Is this what I have become? A creature who can only save the innocent by ripping out their hearts or by crushing their skulls? I tilted my face upwards and roared.

CHAPTER

18

“Are you done yet?”

With my chest heaving, I turned toward Frankenstein. His words had barely registered on me. He shook his head sadly to show his disappointment.

“Friedrich, you are clinging onto these false sentiments as a way to convince yourself that you are still a man, but once you let go you will find that you have evolved into something much better. A superior being. A being of intelligence and cunning, as you previously were, but of much greater size and strength and without the curse of morality and conscience to weigh you down.”

“Is that all you have to say to me?” I asked, my voice raw and inhuman.

He smiled thinly at that. “You intend to be stubborn. My friend, I will give you time to understand the truth.” He hesitated, his smile turning impish. “Or is it that you wish to hold your grudge against me?” he asked. “That you desire only to blame me for the fate that Friedrich Hoffmann suffered, as well as that woman’s? What was her name again? Johanna Klemmen? Would it satisfy you if you could ask her directly what happened to her?”

He stunned me with those words as severely as if he had struck me with a hammer. An iciness filled my skull as I stared at him, and I could not keep from trembling as I asked what he meant by that. “You have not transformed my Johanna into the same horror as you did Charlotte?”

His smile turned secretive as he considered me. “No, my friend, I have not. I will explain myself in due time. First let me give you a tour of our Temple of Nature, and later my cryptic words will make more sense to you.”

He led me from the hall into a corridor, and as he did he explained that they were in the process of restoring the castle as well as readying it for a great drama that would commence on the first of November and would run for a hundred and twenty days. As we walked down the corridor we passed workmen who glanced fearfully at me, as well as a guest of Frankenstein’s who looked at me only with curiosity and amazement. This guest appeared to be of the same sort as the devil worshippers that I had encountered; an older man, who, given his manner of dress and from the way he held himself, was wealthy, and, from the air of superiority that he exuded, had been born into his wealth. He showed the same cruelty and haughtiness in his expression as Frankenstein. While the two exchanged looks, the guest did not bother saying anything, nor did he join us.

“The first of November is still many months away and the necessary work should be completed by then,” Victor Frankenstein continued, his words rushing out excitedly, his skin flushing a deep pink. “At least I pray so. There is still so much work to be done, but none of this would be possible if it were not for you. The drama that we will be presenting here will be art of the greatest kind. Sadly, it will only be a crude adaptation from a brilliant philosopher, for presenting the work precisely as written would be impossible, but I still hope what we present here will be transcendental.” He stopped himself as if he were remembering something. “My dear Friedrich, you have met this author. The Marquis visited my laboratory in Ingolstatd when we believed you had the simple intelligence of an infant. And you, in your deviousness, were able to eavesdrop on us and understand our conversations without our knowledge. The Marquis will be amused when he hears of this! Although I will never hear the end of it, for he was convinced then that you held intelligence!”

Frankenstein had led me into a semicircular room, and he stopped his speech so that he could watch my reaction to what he was presenting to me. In the center of this room sat a decorative throne that had been elevated four feet above the floor with its back resting against the wall so that it overlooked the room. Marble columns rose to the ceiling from both sides of this throne. Hooks were attached to these columns, and from these were hung cat-o’-nine tails and other whips, and evil-looking devices at whose purpose I could only guess. Embedded halfway up each column were iron manacles, and the purpose of these was easy to surmise. They were meant so that a victim could be chained between these columns and left suspended in the air.

Scattered about this room were couches and chaise longues that were covered with satin cushions. The room had the feel of an evil amphitheater, and I guessed this was where the play that Frankenstein had mentioned was to be performed. What was most striking and what filled me with the greatest sense of loathing were not the columns decorated with their instruments of torture, but a mural that ran fully around the room and held a height of at least eight feet, with the figures within it painted to be life-sized. This mural reflected what was at first glance a pleasant ballroom scene of men in their elegant attire and women in their fine ballroom gowns waltzing happily together. But if you looked more closely you could see a glint of wickedness shining in the men’s eyes, as well as hint of horror shading the women’s complexions. I tried to look away from this strange painting, but it was as if I were compelled to stare at it, almost as if I were afraid to look away from it.

“You are enjoying the mural?” Frankenstein asked, obviously pleased with himself. “This is my own contribution to the Marquis’ brilliant work, for he could not possibly have divined a mural of this sort, as will become apparent to you over time. But I am quite pleased with it. Here, let me show you more.”

He led me to one of what were a half dozen closets attached to this room. Frankenstein opened the closet door, and inside, it was furnished with a couch similar to those scattered about the main room, with other whips and evil devices hanging from the walls. When we stepped out of the closet, I stopped, confused. The mural appeared to have changed subtly, the men’s faces all the more sinister, the women’s faces registering a touch more fear. I also imagined that their positions within their waltz had changed, as if they had taken several steps during my absence. Frankenstein seemed pleased by my confusion, but only asked that we continue our tour.

“The other closets are all the same as the one I showed you,” he said. “But let me show you the dining room, which is, sadly, still under construction.”

Frankenstein took me to an adjoining room, which was to be the dining room. Workmen were hanging rich red tapestries and painting the walls and crafting an ornamental molding made of ivory along the edges of the ceiling. A great oak table sat in the middle of the room, and scattered about this table were fine armchairs with fat leather cushions. There was nothing overtly sinister about this room—at least not like the amphitheater that I was shown—but it still filled me with a sense of loathing. Perhaps it was that an evil permeated the interior of this castle as completely as if it were air, and that it would chill me wherever I went within these castle walls.

From this dining room, Frankenstein next showed me a set of private bedrooms, all of which were still under construction. Even with the canopied beds and the other fine furnishings, these rooms filled me with the same sort of revulsion as the dining room and amphitheater.

“The living quarters for my guests are on higher floors,” Frankenstein confided to me. “These chambers are to be used for the drama that we will be performing. Come, there is still much I desire to show you.”

He took me to a stone staircase that led into the bowels of the castle and what appeared to be a dungeon. Workmen were assembling a complex set of gears and machinery across eight pillars that stood in a row, all of which had manacles attached to them. Frankenstein stopped to admire this. He pointed out a chain and told me that when it was pulled the victims who were secured to each of these pillars would be murdered simultaneously.

“All done through different means,” he giggled. “Garroted, stabbed, set on fire, shot by darts and other exquisite forms of death. It will be a thing of beauty.”

“What do you mean the victims who are to be chained to those pillars?”

He fought to contain another giggle, but otherwise did not answer me. Instead he moved hurriedly to an iron door and pulled it open. He stood eagerly by this open door waiting for me. On entering this chamber I found cages filled with young girls, none of which could have been older than twenty. I stared at them dumbfounded. There could have been several hundred of them, and as I looked at their horrorstruck and pitiful expressions, I saw that were even younger children among them, both boys and girls.

“These are to be the players in our drama,” Frankenstein told me.

I stared at him as dumbly as I did those poor prisoners, Frankenstein’s words not yet sinking in.

“Of course, I will be playing a role, as will several of my guests. But these will be the star players of our production, and none of this would have been possible without you, Friedrich.”

I could not understand what he was saying, and as he saw my bewilderment his expression grew exceedingly wicked.

“We stole them when you were terrorizing the Saxony and Bavarian provinces,” he explained, his voice slicing me as sharply as if it had been a dagger. “All of these thefts were blamed on you. Without your help, Friedrich, we would never have been able to procure the players that we need for our drama.”

I closed my eyes and imagined the feverish state that I had been in when I stole into those cities under the cloak of darkness and skulked about their citizenry, almost as if I were little more than a puppet being manipulated by an invisible hand. I understood then.

“It was your black magic that sent me into those cities and villages, and made me act I did,” I said, my voice rumbling out in a soft echo.

“Of course,” Frankenstein said.

I looked at the faces of these young girls and children as they stared back at me, horrified. All I could see was innocence and purity.

“These are who you will be murdering on those machines?” I asked, not quite believing that any man, no matter how evil, could do as Frankenstein was suggesting.

“Some of them will play that role,” Frankenstein said. “Others will be assigned their own special roles, all of which they will play out as demanded. In the meantime, they will be well-fed and kept healthy, and their innocence will not be breached. We need all of them to remain virgins leading up to our drama, although none will remain virgins for very long after it begins.”

He chuckled at that.

The full magnitude of what I had seen and what Frankenstein was telling me began to sink in. The murdering machines, the devices for torture and other evil. And with utter disgust I understood the unwitting role that I played.

“This is not a temple of nature,” I spat out, “but a temple of depravity!”

Frankenstein’s eyes darkened and his smile lost some of its luster. “You are wrong, Friedrich,” he said. “In nature, is there such thing as murder and rape? If a tiger wishes to kill another animal, does it not just do so? If a male beast wishes to make use of a female of its species, or any other species that it is stronger than, does it not just overpower it and do as it wishes?”

“We are not animals.”

“But we are, Friedrich. With all of our pretense of being something greater than that, that is all we are, and our drama will be representing the ultimate truth of nature, and not the hypocrisy of man and his supposed high morality. In Paris right now, under the guise of piety and God, the sanctimonious fiend, Robespierre, is each day sending hundreds of innocent men and women to their death by the guillotine and unleashing rivers of blood so great that they have had to build special gutters to contain it. In Spain, for such alleged crimes of heresy, hundreds of innocent men and women are tortured and murdered each day in ways every bit as barbaric as what our play will call for. The few lives that we will be sacrificing here for our little drama will be a drop of piss compared to the oceans that these civilized nations pour out.”

“What you are saying is nothing but an excuse for a few wicked men to act out their sickness. Why should these innocents be the ones to suffer? Why not you?”

“Because, Friedrich, in nature the strong prey on the weak.”

“Then let me use my greater strength to rip the limbs from your body. That would make a fine statement concerning the power of nature.”

A shadow passed over Frankenstein’s eyes as he looked at me. The smile that he had been favoring me with faded and a dullness settled over his features.

“This has grown tiresome,” he said. “I had such high hopes for you. You, of all creatures, who must be so detested simply for your physical appearance by these same men and women whom you insist on bleeding tears of compassion for. With these fine sensibilities of yours, I suppose there is little chance that you will ever again be able to speak to Johanna Klemmen. To do so would be too offensive to your virtuous nature. It is a pity that she will forever be lost to you.”

CHAPTER

19

Frankenstein’s words had the calculated effect that he planned. I could barely contain myself as I stammered out for him to tell me what he meant by this.

“But my dear Friedrich, I am afraid it would upset your sensibilities if I were to do so.”

“Tell me!”

He shrugged, and in an air of utter casualness he told me how he had obtained Johanna’s brain as material, and had been keeping it preserved using the same liquid that he used to keep Charlotte living.

“Why would you do this?”

“Why?” A malicious glint showed in his eyes as he considered me. “No particular reason. I was able to procure the material and thought it would be amusing to reunite two lost lovers, although I never imagined that memories and intelligence would be retained in your brain or hers. But now it would be a fascinating experiment to test whether love is indeed spiritual or merely brought about by physical attraction, for if I were to bring back your lover, would she be able to look past your hideous appearance and still have deep affections for you, or would she simply be sickened by your sight?”

I did not say anything. My eyes cast downwards toward the stone floor. I could not have met Frankenstein’s cruel eyes for any purpose, for my strength bled out of me as surely as if my jugular had been severed.

“Well, Friedrich, shall I sacrifice one of these young girls so that you may be with your beloved Johanna Klemmen once more? Or would that act be too repulsive for you?”

For a long moment I could not answer him, then my voice barely a whisper, I uttered, “Do as you wish.”

“No, Friedrich, that is not good enough. You must decide or I will dispose of your beloved’s brain and she will be lost to you forever. If you need to, you can rationalize your decision with the knowledge that you will be saving one of these young girls, for none of them will be surviving past the end of our drama. But I will not be sacrificing one of these girls for this purpose unless you are a willing accomplice. One last time, do you wish me to bring Johanna Klemmen back to you?”

God help me, I nodded my assent.

“That is not good enough. I need to hear your words.”

I forced myself to meet his eyes and all the maliciousness that they contained. “Do what is necessary to bring Johanna back to life,” I said, my chest aching so that I could barely stand it.

He nodded solemnly. “I will do that, Friedrich. But no more of your lectures, and no more of your false nobility. Now which one of these should be made into Johanna Klemmen?”

I shook my head. “I do not care. You choose,” I said.

The smile that next twisted his lips chilled me as nothing before had ever done.

“No, my friend,” he said, “you will choose her, but it will be done in a most sporting way.”

Frankenstein assembled the rest of his guests in the dungeon, and I was surprised to see that they consisted of women also. In total, his guests comprised seven men and four women. I was also surprised that the Marquis was not among them, although I later learned that they expected his arrival within two weeks’ time. As with the guest that I had seen earlier, they all appeared to be of wealth, and they all clearly shared Frankenstein’s perversity. There was little difference between them and the devil worshippers that I had encountered, except that I was powerless against them, as I equally was against Frankenstein.

While I stood helpless, servants brought out the prisoners for me to look over, and I was compelled to do so both by Frankenstein’s black magic and his implied threat of disposing of Johanna’s brain if I failed to cooperate. It all had such a surreal nightmarish quality to it as I was forced to look into these poor girls’ faces as they wept with fear and misery, all the while Frankenstein and his guests tittering with amusement and making wagers over which girl I would select. Frankenstein in his evil even had the young children brought out for me to look over. Several times I wished to die when these innocents begged me to rescue them. But I knew I could not, and overpowering in my mind was the desire to be reunited with my Johanna, as grotesque a manner as this reunion would be brought about. In the end I chose one of them.

“When will this be done?” I demanded.

Frankenstein looked at me slowly as if he were going to comment about my tone, but in the end chose to ignore it. “Not for several weeks,” he said, his own tone peevish. “I need to travel to London first to consult with others who have knowledge that I need since the operation of placing a brain in an otherwise undisturbed body is very different from my constructing a being from material, as I did with you, and I will also not be leaving until after the Marquis arrives. So be patient!”

With that the party broke up. Frankenstein and his guests quitted the dungeon, and I was compelled to follow them. I wandered about as if I were in a spell, at times sinking into deep despair over my unwitting role in this atrocity and my inability to help these innocent prisoners, at other times anxious over the prospect of once again being in Johanna’s company. The tearing that was done to my soul over this was something awful, and it was with surprise that I found myself drawn back to that evil amphitheater. When I looked up and saw the ballroom scene, I stumbled backward, disoriented, for it appeared to me as if the couples within the mural had danced halfway across the room. None of them were where I remembered them. Other details also seemed new to me. One of the men now held a dagger behind his back; a woman’s mouth froze in the beginning moments of a scream; lines of terror showed in other women’s faces. As I stood transfixed at this mural and puzzled over these changes, one of Frankenstein’s woman guests approached me.

“Later this will become much more interesting,” she told me.

Earlier I had been introduced to all of Frankenstein’s guests, and this one was a viscountess from an extraordinarily old family. If I had not known the evil that lay in her heart, I might have mistaken her for an attractive woman who perhaps bordered on beautiful, but even still, I might have detected her icy countenance. I did not bother to respond to her attempt at conversation. Instead I moved my gaze back to the painting.

“Victor mentioned that he constructed you to be quite well endowed,” she said with a snicker. “Or in his words, large enough to make any stallion envious. I wish to see your cock. Show it to me.”

Frankenstein’s hold on me extended to his guests. I was powerless to disobey her, and as if unseen strings were controlling my hands I opened my cape and lowered my trousers. She made a gasping sound and then proceeded to amuse herself with me. I stood there helpless, unable to move or command my hands to throw her away from me. Soon one of Frankenstein’s other female guests joined her, while several of the male guests entertained themselves by watching. Perhaps it was my imagination, but it seemed to me as if several of the waltzing couples within the mural were now smirking at me.

I was required to join them for dinner, and Frankenstein seated me next to himself. Their conversation quickly grew tedious as it revolved around the same tired themes that Frankenstein had brought up to me earlier. I attempted to drown them out by drinking glass after glass of brandy. They were too involved in their pontificating to notice, and after a while the brandy did help to dull out their voices. After dinner ended, I found myself drawn once more to the amphitheater, and this time there was no denying that the scene had changed. The couples were no longer happily waltzing, but now the men were displaying an animal savagery as they ripped the dresses from their partners and threatened their throats with the blades of knives. I blinked several times, wondering if I was seeing what I thought, or if the brandy had left me so intoxicated that I was merely imagining this sight.

“My friend, you are beginning to understand the nature of my mural.”

Frankenstein was smiling patiently at me. I did not wish to ask him anything but I couldn’t help myself.

“How?”

“If I can bring you back to life, why not a painting?”

A sickening feeling filled me as I turned my gaze back to the mural and the evil it represented.

“They are very sly devils,” Frankenstein said. “They will not move while being watched. Later, at midnight, they will, but not now.”

I knew Frankenstein wished me on my own accord to come back at midnight so that I could watch how the actors within his mural would play out their drama, and for that reason alone I avoided returning to that room that night, as much as my morbid curiosity begged me to. Instead I took several bottles of brandy to the bedroom that Frankenstein assigned to me. The bed that he had constructed for the room was almost twice the size of a normal bed, and so it fit me, as did the silk sheets and enormous blankets that he had specially made. Frankenstein also had a special armchair constructed to hold my size, as he also did for the dining room. I sat in this chair and drank the brandy that I brought back with me, hoping that it would dim the self-hatred that raged within me. I tried to remember my life when I was still Friedrich Hoffmann. I tried desperately to think of Johanna, but my thoughts kept reflecting back on the horrors that I had experienced since awakening inside of Frankenstein’s laboratory. My execution and rebirth as a hideous abomination, poor Charlotte existing only as a disembodied head, wolves turning into vampyres, devil worshippers and their human sacrifices, this castle and the utter depravity within it, complete with a living mural of horrors. My thoughts eventually slowed as the brandy succeeded in dulling my senses, and a heavy weariness fell over me. I closed my eyes and before too long, mercifully, I fell into sleep.

This time Frankenstein’s black magic did not invade my dreams, for there was no purpose since he had already compelled me to join him at his castle. Instead I found myself drifting into a peacefulness that seemed almost foreign to me. At first it was as if I were being rocked back and forth within a gentle breeze, and then I saw Johanna. She smiled contentedly at me, with only love and admiration in her expression, her long yellow hair flowing down her back. But she was naked, and I blushed deeply and looked away, and saw that I too was naked and my body was that of Friedrich Hoffmann’s.

“Friedrich, my darling, there is nothing to be ashamed of. I have waited so long to visit you. Please look at me.”

Johanna’s voice was as a balm soothing my soul. I turned toward her and found myself instantly lost within her gentle hazel eyes. She held out her hands to me, and I grasped them hoping to never have to let go of her.

“I have missed you,” I said.

“As I have missed you, my darling. I have tried so many times to visit you previously, but something strong and oppressive kept me from doing so.”

My eyes misted quickly, but I did not dare to let go of her for even a second to wipe away my tears.

I said, “When I think of what was done to you—”

“Please, Friedrich, don’t.”

“But the villains responsible must pay for what they did. The crime that was committed against you is too horrible to even think of. It must be avenged! Justice requires it!”

“Let God worry about punishing the guilty,” she said. “All I care about is being able to spend eternity with you, and I am afraid that that will not be happening.”

Her own eyes had become liquid with tears and her smile troubled, and it tugged at my heart to see her like that.

“Do not be concerned,” I said. “I will be seeing you soon, and then we will have the rest of this lifetime together and eternity afterward.”

She did not say anything, but her brow turned more troubled and a darkness clouded her delicate features.

“Embrace me, Friedrich,” she said in a hushed whisper, “for I am afraid that this will be our only opportunity.”

I embraced her, our naked bodies touching, my hands resting on her slender hips, her own arms wrapped tightly across my back. I had never felt more joy than I did right then, but also an intense sorrow as I realized that this would soon end. Johanna began to weep, and she buried her head in my chest, her tears hot against my flesh. I tried to soothe her by stroking her hair and whispering sweet words into her ear. After a while she stopped her weeping. She pulled away slightly so that she could look into my eyes.

“Friedrich, you must leave this castle,” she said.

“I cannot,” I said with despair. “The fiend, Frankenstein, has employed black magic to hold me here.”

“You must find a way, my darling. And you must also find a way to rescue the girls that they’re imprisoning here, for the plans that they have for these innocent girls are even more vile than what was done to me.”

I could not answer her. I knew she was right, but I did not know how to do what she was asking.

She kissed me then on my lips with an intensity that made me dizzy. As she pulled away, she whispered to me, “I am so afraid of losing you, Friedrich. Please do not be lost to me.”

I wanted to answer her, to promise her that she would not lose me, but before I could I was jolted awake, my body having crashed to the floor from falling out of the armchair where I had fallen asleep. As I lay on the floor, I did not want to believe that I had woken, and I desperately tried to hold onto the dream I had of Johanna, but her image proved to be as elusive as vapor. She was gone, and as I looked at my hands, I had to accept that I was no longer Friedrich Hoffmann, but once again a repulsive abomination. I began to weep as I lay where I had fallen, and felt the full weight of all I had lost sinking down my heart.

Later, when I could stop weeping, I cursed Frankenstein yet again for all that he had stolen from me.

CHAPTER

20

Each day I would be left alone to wander the castle as I pleased. My enemy was too busy with his plans to pay much attention to me, as were his guests, and his black magic kept me imprisoned within the castle walls as surely as if bars had been placed across the main gate, although even without his spell I did not know if I could have left with the prospect of seeing my Johanna being brought back to life.

The morning after my arrival I found myself once more drawn to that evil amphitheater. The scene had reverted back to show the couples happily waltzing across a ballroom floor with not even a glimmer of malice discernible in the faces of the dancers, and the women fully clothed in their fine ball gowns without any evidence of them having been torn off the previous night.

Later that afternoon I discovered illustrations that were made for the drama they were planning, and what I saw was beyond vileness, beyond depravity. I stared in shock at these sketches, and could not imagine any human mind designing such acts. It was hard even to imagine Satan himself dreaming up such evil. There were hundreds of these illustrations, but I could not view more than a dozen of them without feeling whatever was left of my own soul rotting inside of me. I tried to burn those damnable drawings in the fireplace, but Frankenstein’s black magic compelled me to place them back where I had found them.

After seeing those pages I could not do nothing. I waited until the workmen left the dungeon, and then I snuck down there with the intention of freeing the prisoners that were being held, but Frankenstein’s same evil spell prevented me from doing this. The keys to the cages were hanging on a nail in the wall, but when I tried to pick them up my arm fell dead to my side. Not seeing my form in the dim light, the young girls and children cried out to me, pleading to me to save them, but I couldn’t no matter how hard I tried. In the end I fled the chamber, too ashamed to face these poor innocents.

That night I was required to dine with Frankenstein’s company, as I was every night that I would remain within the castle, but as I had done previously, I drank enough brandy to deaden them to me and their voices became little more than a droning in my ears. After dinner I found myself once more drawn to the amphitheater, and the scene displayed upon the mural was similar to that of the other night, with the men cruelly ripping the women’s gowns from their bodies, and in some cases, their knives drawing blood across their victim’s faces. The fascination that this mural held for me disgusted me, and as tempted as I was to return at midnight I avoided doing so again.

I did not sleep that night, and I used those twilight hours to search more of the castle without anyone’s knowledge. It was past daybreak when I found a secret panel that held Frankenstein’s library of rare occult texts, but only moments later I heard noises of others within the castle awakening, and since I did not wish to have anyone stumble upon me and learn of my discovery, I placed the books back within their hidden compartment.

The next night, when the rest of the inhabitants of the castle were asleep, I returned so that I could read this occult collection undisturbed. The manuscripts were ancient, their bindings all of aged and cracking vellum, although with one of the books I had the thought that human skin was used, as well as blood instead of ink. I handled these books carefully so that their pages would not crumble apart in my hands. Several of them were written in Greek, others in Latin, and I could feel the evil emanating from them simply by holding them. It was a loathsome activity, touching and reading these books, and it took me four nights to complete my task. It was in the last of these books—the one that I believed had human skin as its binding—that I found the spell that Frankenstein had cast on me to make me his unwitting slave, but nowhere within its pages could I find a counter-spell. I was ashamed to realize that I was relieved by this, for it left me with no choice but to allow Johanna to be brought back to me.

This knowledge that I was a compliant if not necessarily willing participant in Frankenstein’s plans filled me with a new revulsion that sent me reeling. I had been trying to believe that I was only an innocent prisoner within the castle walls, the same as the caged children; that since there was nothing I could do to save them, none of this was my fault. But was I secretly hoping that I would be left with no choice but to allow Frankenstein’s plans to play out? Left to my own accord, would I be willing to sacrifice not only one of them but all of them if it would bring Johanna back to me? How could I be above their evil if I were secretly glad that I could not prevent it? These questions preyed on me, and sent me roaming the castle like a ghost. For the rest of the day I barely paid attention to where I wandered, or to the amused looks with which Frankenstein and his guests favored me. It was as if I were walking listlessly inside of a nightmare that I could not wake up from, and it was in this dark state of mind that I found myself back in the amphitheater at midnight.

Frankenstein and his other guests were already assembled there. It must have been a nightly ritual for them. And Frankenstein was right. At that hour the actors within the mural moved freely and without any care that they were being observed. Their movements were fluid and held an eerie quality, and the scenes that played out were every bit as inhuman as the illustrations that I had seen for Frankenstein’s planned drama. The women all had their clothing torn off, and in some cases were dead, having had their throats cut so savagely that their heads hung as if by a thread from their bodies. The women who were still alive all had at least one or more of their limbs cut from their bodies, and blood flowed from them every bit as much as it would have from a living person, and it left a red stain spreading across the dance floor. When they opened their mouths wide to scream, no sound emanated from them and their screams remained trapped within that nightmarish mural. Whether the women were alive or dead, it did not stop the men from raping and sodomizing them in ways that earlier would have been unimaginable to me. Some of the men would turn to grin wickedly at us, others were too caught up in their bloodlust to notice that they had an audience. As each depraved act unfolded, Frankenstein and his guests applauded with an animalistic fervor, their own faces burning feverishly as if they were in a spell. As I watched, I found my own legs increasingly growing unsteady, and when the actors within the mural turned to acts of cannibalism I staggered out of the room before the swimming within my head sent me crashing to the floor.

I was only a few yards from the amphitheater when my legs gave out from under me, and I crawled desperately to find a dark corner where I could lose the memory of the images that I had seen play out on that mural and the sound of the enthusiastic applauding and cheering from Frankenstein and his guests.

I made my way into one of the boudoirs where the noises coming from the amphitheater were muted enough to where I could almost ignore them. An iciness ran through my body, my skin as cold and damp as a corpse’s. I pushed myself into a sitting position and rocked back and forth as I grasped my knees, and kept telling myself that what I saw wasn’t real, but only the imaginations of a madman.

Except that the acts that had played out on that mural were very much like the fates that were intended for the prisoners being held within the dungeon, and for some, what was planned for was far worse, at least according to the few illustrations that I had looked at.

If I could, would I be able to save them, even if it meant that my Johanna would be forever lost to me? And even if I remained powerless to stop Frankenstein from carrying out his atrocities, would the fact that I secretly wished to remain powerless damn my soul every bit as much?

But at least I was saving one of them from that cruelty. I tried to take solace from that, but failed miserably.

For the rest of my days in the castle I avoided the amphitheater, but nothing I did could stop those images from torturing me.

Ten days after that night, the Marquis arrived. He did not arrive alone; since Frankenstein intended to bring me to London with him, he arranged for a tailor and boot maker to be brought also to the castle so that I could be properly outfitted for my trip. All of them arrived together in the same carriage, which brought them to the base of the cliff, and a wagon pulled by donkeys was next used to bring them up the path and to the castle. I did not see the Marquis arrive, or even later that evening at dinner, for he had to rest after his arduous journey. I did however meet immediately with both the tailor and boot maker, neither of whom were allowed the luxury of claiming that they were too tired to commence their work. That afternoon the tailor measured me for a suit that I would wear under my cape, as well as a pair of gloves to hide the monstrous nature of my hands, and the boot maker did likewise so that he could construct for me a pair of leather boots. Both of these men shook noticeably as they took my measurements, as well paling even whiter than milk, but they did their work, and by the following afternoon they delivered to me my clothing and boots. Frankenstein commanded me to try on my new suit, and as I did, he nodded his approval.

“A proper gentleman,” he said with a trace of a smile. “Wear this tonight for dinner. I would like the Marquis to see you like this.”

I nodded my consent, since I was incapable of doing otherwise, and that evening I arrived for dinner as Frankenstein commanded. The Marquis was already seated at the table. He looked the same pompous, rotund creature that I had seen in Frankenstein’s laboratory, except that his heavy jowls sagged more and his flesh appeared grayer around his eyes. His back faced the door and he did not notice me enter, but continued his conversation with several of the other guests about how fascinating he found Frankenstein’s mural.

“The actors within it only seem to move when I look away,” he said. “Although they have been up to much wickedness of late.”

“Wait until midnight!” the Viscountess exclaimed excitedly. “They will not show any shyness in their actions then!”

The Marquis was about to respond to her when he noticed me, and instead stopped to nod in my direction. Frankenstein also then noticed that I had entered the hall, and commanded me to take my seat, which would put the Marquis directly to my right.

“I have you to thank,” the Marquis said gravely. “Without your services we would not have been able find the players that we needed to perform my masterpiece. I viewed our actors earlier today, and they will be quite adequate.”

I held my tongue. I knew Frankenstein had not made his threat idly to dispose of Johanna’s brain if I showed any outrage over their intentions, and the fact was I was no longer sure whether I had the right to claim any moral superiority to them. The Marquis waited for me to answer him, and when I did not a thin smile showed on his lips.

“You do not approve of our intended drama?” he asked.

I chose my words carefully, and told him simply that I did not see the point of it.

“That is because you do not understand it,” he said, an angry petulance entering his voice. “I was wrong before when I thought I perceived intelligence in you when I visited Victor in Ingolstadt. Clearly you are an imbecile if you cannot see the brilliance of my drama!”

Frankenstein laughed hastily. “Do not be offended, my friend. Friedrich still clings to his noble aspirations, but that will not last for long. And he knows only bits and pieces of what we have planned. He has seen some of our illustrations, and has surmised other aspects of your drama, but that is the extent of his knowledge. When he sees the work in its entirety, he will appreciate what we are doing.”

I wondered how Frankenstein knew that I had viewed the illustrations. Had he spied on me? Or perhaps it was his dark magic that had compelled me to find them? The Marquis interrupted my thoughts by making a loud harrumph noise. His expression turned sullen as he picked up his brandy and sipped it. When he put the glass down, his eyes had darkened.

“I do not care whether this abomination of yours appreciates my work,” he stated in a tone as dark as his eyes. “But I will be making him an actor within my play, and will be commencing with my revisions tomorrow. Does his cock work? That is all I wish to know right now!”

The Viscountess answered him, telling the Marquis how she had firsthand experience that it did. “We put on an exhibition for the actors within Victor’s mural, and I believe they enjoyed our show every bit as much as we do theirs!”

The Marquis chuckled at that and drank more of his brandy. This time when he put the glass down he smiled nastily at me, a hateful glint in his eyes. “In that case, my daemonic friend, I will be revising my drama to give you a starring role. But enough of that. Congratulations are in order. I understand that you chose one of the young girls to be your bride.”

He waited for me to answer him, and when I failed to, his smile turned nastier and he continued, “A delightful creature, the one you chose. I paid particularly close attention to her when I examined all our prisoners earlier. Although at twenty years she did seem too ripe for my taste, but still quite pretty, even at her advanced age. Her rosy cheeks and yellow hair made me curious concerning what she had beneath her peasant dress.”

With his eyes still intent on me, he ordered Frankenstein to send this girl later to his room.

“But we agreed that we would wait until November first, for when our drama is to begin—”

“Since she is not going to be one of our actors, her virginity is of no importance. I wish to spend the night sampling her. And I will be doing our imbecilic friend here a favor by training her in all forms of pleasure so that she will be better prepared for her wedding night.”

“If you touch her I will kill you,” I told the Marquis.

He laughed at that. “How? You cannot even keep me from doing this?” He stood up and struck me on the face. If I were in Friedrich Hoffmann’s body, perhaps his blow would have drawn blood, or have even knocked me down, but in my current form it was little more than a tap. Still, I trembled with rage as I stared into his face, but Frankenstein’s spell forced my hands to remain at my sides.

Frankenstein interrupted this scene, nervously imploring the Marquis to sit down. “I will be sending her on a long journey tomorrow in preparation for the transformation. My dear Marquis, it is best for tonight that she be allowed to rest. I am sure one or more of the madames here would be happy instead to oblige you tonight—”

“One of them? My God, are you insane? They are all approaching forty!”

Frankenstein hurriedly pulled the Marquis over to him and whispered into his ear. At first the Marquis looked annoyed and wished to argue with him, but in the end he allowed himself to be pacified. He turned to me and nodded curtly. “I apologize,” he said in a stilted voice. “I can at times display a violent temper. Please blame my behavior on artistic temperament.” He then turned to address the rest of the table and also apologized to the ladies sitting there for his outburst. With that he continued with his meal, although his mood had soured considerably.

Frankenstein called me to his side and whispered to me that it would be best if I left the table. “You should rest, my friend. We will be starting a long journey tomorrow.”

I did not argue with him. I was glad to be free of them, especially the Marquis. On the way up to my room, I picked up more bottles of brandy, anxious for the blissful oblivion that they would provide me.

CHAPTER

21

The next morning Frankenstein arranged for the girl that I chose to be transformed into Johanna to be sent ahead to an isolated island off the coast of Scotland, as well as Johanna’s brain, notes, instruments and other medical devices that he would be needing for the operation. He had, it appeared, rented the entire island for the surgery, choosing it for its proximity to England and its isolation. While I understood Frankenstein not wishing to be burdened with this girl while the two of us traveled to London, his shipping her off as if she were little more than any other piece of laboratory equipment troubled me, but I did not attempt to argue with him.

After those arrangements were completed, Frankenstein had a trunk brought down from his living quarters so that the two of us could prepare for our journey to London. The Marquis met him in the parlor and told Frankenstein that he would be hard at work on his revisions, but that he would have everything ready for the first of November. He turned away from me with only a faint acknowledgment of my presence and still with a malicious glint in his eyes. After that, Frankenstein and I departed the castle. We sat together in a wagon while a team of donkeys pulled us down the path and to the base of the cliff. On this side of the cliff was a small cabin and a stable that had been hidden from me when I had arrived weeks earlier from the other side. An attendant had a coach waiting for us. Once we were boarded and under way to Strasburg, I asked Frankenstein why the tailor and boot maker were not accompanying us. He looked away from me and peered off toward the icy glaciers.

“They have costumes and other work to perform in preparation for our drama,” he said under his breath.

His tone and manner led me to believe that it was more than that. That those two, and perhaps all of the workmen and craftsmen employed at the castle, were never going to be leaving. That they were all going to be made unwitting players in the drama that was going to unfold.

Frankenstein appeared absorbed in his own thoughts, which suited me, since I did not care for his company. We did not speak another word together until we arrived in Strasburg and boarded the boat that Frankenstein had chartered to take us up the Rhine to Rotterdam. Once I had gained access to my cabin without any attention from the boat’s crew, Frankenstein asked me to stay shut in my cabin during the day, and not to venture out onto the deck until the darkness of night had descended.

“I will bring you food and wine and whatever else you might need,” he said, “but I am afraid that if the crew were to see you, even hidden under your cape, it would alarm them. Stories of a gigantic daemon kidnapping young girls could have reached this city.”

I did not put up any argument. I did not much care where on that boat I resided.

Whether it was the travel, being free from that castle and its thick oppressive evil, or the cool, soothing air from the water, that night onboard the ship I slept deeply for the first time in over two weeks. While my dreams were not invaded by Frankenstein’s black magic, they were troubling nonetheless, and as much as I had hoped for Johanna to visit she did not appear. I awoke from these dreams with an uneasiness that had burrowed deep into my soul and which I could not rid myself of no matter how hard I tried.

I was mostly left alone over the next several days, with my enemy only interrupting me to bring food and drink. During this time I tried to convince myself that all I had witnessed within the castle was only a fleeting nightmare that I had left far behind me, and I tried desperately to hold on to Johanna’s image within my mind, but her face would invariably break apart only to be replaced by the shifting faces of the young girls in Frankenstein’s dungeon, and I would see them clearly in all of their misery and despair. I would see them begging me to save them. And even when I would open my eyes, I would still be haunted by these phantoms as they would insist on lingering for a horrible few moments more.

When I would look out my cabin window I would see sights of nature that would have soothed and pleased me when I was Friedrich Hoffmann, but now only left me barren, and worse, for before too long I would make out those young girls’ faces within rock formations and clouds. There was no escape from them, no escape from the terror that I had left behind. The worst was when scenes from that mural would play out in my mind, with the women within it being replaced by the young prisoners. I would at times pace my cabin as if I were a caged animal, at other times I would hold my head in my hands, but nothing I did would keep those loathsome thoughts from pushing their serpentine way through my skull. Every minute that I was held captive within those castle walls I had prayed for distant solitude, and now that I had it I could barely stand it.

The night before we were to reach Rotterdam, I stood on the deck and stared into the darkness. Alone, I tried to breathe in the night air in order to try to keep my torturous imaginings at bay. I was interrupted by the arrival of Frankenstein. He stood silently next to me, and I made no attempt to speak to him. We stood like that for several minutes before Frankenstein remarked that there existed a bond between us, a bond similar to that which existed between a father and a son. I laughed harshly at his comment, the noise escaping from me and sounding like little more than a dog’s bark.

“It is true, Friedrich. For I crafted you and brought life into your dead form. I witnessed when you first opened your eyes. I cared for and nurtured you when you were helpless and had no strength to move. And while at times I am disappointed with your progress, I am excited about your potential.”

I tried not to answer him but I could not help myself, his words enraging me.

“My father was a good and gentle man,” I said. “He spent his life painting porcelain figurines, which only served to bring delight into people’s lives. I assure you my father never dreamed of torturing and murdering innocent children for any purpose.”

Frankenstein ignored the anger in my voice, and his own temperament remained calm, maybe even melancholy.

“Friedrich, you need to let go of these false sentiments that you insist on clinging to. What you were before was only a man. That person died, but what you are now, what I in fact gave birth to you as, is something far greater. You will understand this someday, as you will the purpose for the drama that we will be performing. It is far more than what you believe it is. Our drama seeks a higher truth, and will enlighten mankind in a way that no drama before has ever hoped to do. Give it time, Friedrich. You will see this, I am sure of it, and when you do you will have fully evolved into the superior being that I know is your destiny. I am sure that you will also then feel the same bond between us that I feel.”

“If this bond between us truly exists, then free me from your black spell,” I said. “Let me feel this bond without it being choked by your magic.”

“There is no way to free you from my spell,” he said. In the darkness, I saw the calmness upon his face as he stared out toward the river. “I wish I could free you from it, Friedrich. Not now, of course. Not while you are making this request sarcastically and wish only to rip my limbs from my body. But later. Unfortunately, I will never be able to do so.”

I again did not wish to speak further with him, but I could not restrain myself.

“If you believe that these sentiments of mine are merely illusory,” I said. “And that I am destined to be as blackhearted and devoid of conscience as you and the rest of your company, then why are you willing to bring Johanna back to me?”

My enemy paused before answering me. “To help you along the path that you need to take,” he said. “Of course, I have other reasons. This is an experiment that I have longed planned to attempt, and it would be fascinating to see whether this woman’s memories have been retained, as yours were, and how she reacts to you in your new form. But of utmost importance was to have you choose to have a young girl murdered to satisfy your own needs. With this step taken there will be no turning back and there will be little doubt that you will evolve as I have hoped.”

“You would have murdered her anyway,” I argued. “And in a far more sordid and horrible manner!”

Frankenstein shrugged halfheartedly. “Perhaps, but perhaps not. You cannot know for certain what would have happened. What if we decided not to perform our drama, and instead free the prisoners? Or what if the French army caught wind of what we were doing and sent troops to rescue them? No my friend, no matter how you rationalize this, you will be culpable in this girl’s murder.”

I brooded over this, for he was not telling me anything that I had not already been torturing myself over. Of course, he was lying about the chances that they might cancel their planned drama. They were hell-bent on seeing their plans carried out. The girl that I chose would be murdered in any case. But Frankenstein was right. I would now be responsible for her death.

A thought entered my mind, and I began to tremble. “Once you have brought my Johanna back to me, you cannot harm her!”

He nodded. “You have my word on that, Friedrich, although I believe that you will soon have little use for her.”

“And you cannot bring her back to your castle! That madman there would incorporate her into his damnable play if you did!”

“Do not worry, Friedrich. I will not renege on my promise to you. She will be kept safe, and I will keep her away from the castle, at least during our performance, for you are correct of course. I am sure the Marquis already has plans to include her in the proceedings. But you are wrong about him being a madman. He is a visionary, as I have full confidence that you will eventually understand. Would it surprise you to know that the Marquis has acted as a judge in Paris, and that he has saved dozens from the guillotine? And that he has been persecuted for this?”

I bit my tongue to keep from remarking how the most cruel will at times try to wear the disguise of the heroic and the martyr to keep their true nature hidden. I did however ask him what it was that he had whispered to the Marquis after the man’s petulant outburst at dinner the other night.

Frankenstein sighed heavily before telling me, “I reminded him that our guests not only shared our philosophy but were funding our enterprise, and that he should not insult them. I also made sure that he understood the deep affection I feel for you.”

“Why is it that your spell appears to hold more power over me each day?” I asked. “There were times when I traveled through Saxony and Bavaria and felt only a dull pull on me, and was sure that I had free will over my actions.”

“Certainly not when you were sent into those cities and villages,” he said. “But you are right. The spell is like a parasite that grows inside of you. I wish that were not the case, but it is.” He paused before adding, “I would also like to believe that your obedience is partially due to your deeper affections toward me, even if you are refusing to acknowledge it.”

With that my enemy bid me good night. I stood where I was for several hours until the blackness of the night began to dissolve into a hazy grayness, and only then returned to my cabin.

CHAPTER

22

We left for London the same day that we arrived in Rotterdam. Frankenstein urged me to crouch as low as I could when we boarded the ship in an attempt to limit the attention that I would draw. He had every right to be worried about this, for I could not help but draw attention to myself—not only because of my massive size, but due to my manner of dress and the unseasonably hot summer weather. Anyone wearing the cape that I wore, especially with the hood raised to hide my face, would arouse curiosity. I could have suggested that I take a small boat myself to London, or even use that boat to later board the ship under the cover of darkness, but I enjoyed watching how Frankenstein’s brow became ruined by consternation, as well as the way he squirmed whenever a crew member or fellow passenger stared in my direction and whispered into a companion’s ear. In the end, no one approached us and we made it to our private cabin without incident. Frankenstein was perspiring badly by this point, and seemed to be reacting nervously toward every footstep outside our cabin door.

“I should have arranged other means for you to reach London,” he said, his anxiety tightening his voice.

“Are you afraid that the crew might come to us and demand that I remove my cape and reveal myself to them?” I asked, taunting him.

He nodded, too consumed with worry to note the mocking tone of my voice.

“That would be a shame,” I said. “For I might be compelled then to tell them of the young prisoners that you are holding within your castle’s dungeon in Chamounix. As well as the plans that you have for them.”

His eyes flashed as my words brought him temporarily out of his stupor. “And lose your dear beloved Johanna Klemmen forever?” he asked, his voice cutting as a scalpel. “I don’t think so. But even if you were to try something like that, your voice would fail you, and would find yourself quite mute. But Friedrich, it is good to see this cruel streak in you, for it shows that you are making progress.”

With that, he sat by a small table and poured himself a glass of wine, his hand shaking as he brought it to his lips. When footsteps sounded outside of our door he nearly spilled the wine down his jacket, but after a pause the footsteps moved past us.

“Once we arrive in London there will be nothing to worry about,” he said.

“I am not worried,” I said, a harsh grin wrinkling my face.

Annoyance pinched his mouth, but otherwise he ignored me and poured himself a second glass of wine. I had been crouching inside the cabin, for if I stood straight my head would have gone through the ceiling. I became weary of standing like that, and took a bottle myself, pulled out the cork with my fingers, and sat on the floor and drank the bottle as a baby would milk. It was more than an hour later, and after several additional glasses of wine, that Frankenstein recovered from his panic, and his familiar haughtiness showed once more in his eyes and on his lips.

“We fooled them, Friedrich,” he said. “They were only within several feet of you when you passed them, and not one of them suspected what you are. The idiots!”

“Or maybe they did,” I said. “Maybe they have guards posted by our door and are waiting until we arrive in London before arresting us.”

This goading affected Frankenstein as I had hoped. Alarm crept into his eyes, and he had difficulty relaxing over the next eight hours of our voyage as he attempted to forget my words. I got little satisfaction from this, and soon I grabbed another bottle of wine, ignoring him. When the ship docked, Frankenstein had us stay holed up within our cabin for another hour so that the night would grow darker before we left. Even then, he opened the cabin door only a crack so that he could peer out and be sure that armed guards weren’t waiting for us.

“They could have the guards waiting at the disembarkation point of the ship,” I said. “That is what I would do if I were them.”

In his nervous state he took this latest taunt of mine to heart. “Very true, Friedrich, very true,” he murmured, both too drunk and anxious to think properly. He chewed on his bottom lip before his bloodshot eyes glanced up to meet mine. “Here is what you will do,” he said. “I want you to climb from the deck down the side of the ship, and from there jump onto the pier. You can do that, can’t you? And make sure nobody sees or hears you. Wait in the shadows for me. Once I have left the ship I will find you. Or you should signal me if you spot me first.”

I nodded my assent and cursed myself. If I had kept my mouth shut, I would have been able to walk past the crew members with Frankenstein at my side, and maybe he would have then died from fright and I would be free from his damned spell.

Frankenstein left the cabin before me, then I skulked unobserved to the midpoint of the ship, and from there I climbed down a ladder and easily jumped so that I landed like a cat on the pier. There I waited until I spotted Frankenstein and I signaled for him as he had commanded me. His mood had brightened considerably.

“We did it, my friend,” he exclaimed heartily. He reached up and clapped me collegially on my back as if we were best of friends. I gritted my teeth at this, but held my tongue.

“We arrived here without arousing undue suspicion. From this point on there will be nothing to worry about.”

Sadly, I believed he was right. He arranged for a hackney carriage, and under the cover of night, I slipped inside of it without the driver being able to see much of my features. The seat groaned under my weight and the floorboards sagged. Frankenstein muttered that he was going to have to arrange for coaches from now on, but as the lone horse strained under the driver’s whip, the carriage got under way.

CHAPTER

23

Frankenstein had rented the first floor of a rooming house near the Charing Cross section of London. We arrived in the pitch-black of night, with the carriage driver having to hold a lantern in order to see ten feet in front of his face. The street that the rooming house sat on seemed aptly named given its new tenant: Craven Street. After the carriage brought us to the address, Frankenstein pointed out the private entrance that the flat had, and told me that was why he had rented it. I stood in the darkness while the carriage driver struggled to carry in Frankenstein’s trunk, and waited until he drove away before I entered the apartment. These ceilings were also less than eight feet high, and I had to stoop. Frankenstein didn’t notice or care, and appeared to be in high spirits.

“This will be an exciting few days,” he told me. “I suspect you have never seen anything like London before. While I will need you to stay indoors during the day, feel free to roam at night and see what you can of the city.”

I had had more than enough of Frankenstein’s company during the voyage, and I took him up on his offer. Before he could say another word I was out of the flat and moving fast to get away. A crescent moon showed in the night sky and provided little light, and the air was hazier than I was used to, but with my nocturnal vision I could still see well enough in what was close to blackness. Frankenstein was right. This was unlike any city I had yet seen. The buildings appeared haphazardly slapped together as if no planning was done, and the area more cramped than even in Ingolstadt. It gave me the impression of walking through a honeycomb. But it was the dirt and filth of the place that I noticed most. Garbage and rotted food had been tossed into the streets and it filled them with an inescapable stench. As I walked I noticed more rats scurrying about than I had ever seen in my life.

I had been heading toward Charing Cross, and I stopped at what I saw. In the open was a public pillory with a man bent over, his head and arms locked within the wooden structure. I heard him moaning miserably, and I walked over to him. It was too dark for him to see me, but I could see the anguish on his face, as well as the stains from the rotted fruits and vegetables that had been thrown at him.

“Why are you locked up like this?” I asked.

My voice surprised him, but he answered me. “They accuse me of stealing a loaf of bread and two pounds of mutton,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“Are these accusations true?”

He squeezed his eyes closed and nodded as much as the pillory would allow. “Yes, the food was for my brother’s widow. She has children and they are hungry. And, yes, I did steal what they claim.”

I considered this for only a moment, and then I broke the pillory open to free him. Before he had a chance to thank me I was walking away.

I kept walking north, using the few stars I could make out in the sky to guide me. Mostly I made my way through narrow alleyways and streets, although at times I would come across small parks and gardens and buildings of remarkable grandeur. I was no more than a few miles from where I had freed that man from the pillory when I spotted five men standing together in the darkness. Somehow they sensed me and they moved quickly so that they surrounded me. They were big men, although nowhere my size. But each of them was over six feet tall and thick shouldered, and they held long knives. They reminded me of the wolves that had first attacked me when I traveled to Leipzig.

One of them addressed me. “Aye, mate. If you are going to pass, you got to pay our toll.”

“What is your toll?”

He laughed at that. “Listen to his accent. A foreigner.” This was said to his companions. Then to me, he said, “Your pig snout. That is what we collect, and that’s why we are members of the Pig Snout Club. So remember that for when you tell stories of how you lost your pig snout!”

While I had studied English, I hadn’t spoken or heard it much in my life, and I wasn’t sure if I had heard right. “I do not have a pig with me,” I said. “So I am afraid you will have to collect your snout from someone else.”

“That’s not how it works, friend. We’ll collect the snout from you. From your own face, mind you. So stand still and be prepared to pay your toll. Or put up a fight if you wish.”

They moved toward me, and it was only when they were a few feet from me and realized my size that they stopped. Once more they reminded me of those wolves, except with the men I felt no remorse over what I was going to do. They only hesitated briefly. I suppose they decided that even with my greater size, they were armed and there were five of them. And in the darkness they couldn’t see me clearly enough to realize what they were going up against.

When the first of them stepped forward to stick me with his knife, I grabbed him by the arm and broke it as if it were a dried stick. Before he could utter a sound I lifted him over my head the way you would lift a sack of flour. He started shrieking then, but it did not last long as I threw him at two of his advancing companions. These two also cried out as they fell to the ground with their friend sprawled out on top of them, either dead or unconscious. The two remaining proved less courageous than the wolves had, and they both took several steps backward.

“Aye, Charlie,” one of them cried out. “Was that you who screamed? What happened? Henry?”

“I think he’s murdered Charlie,” one of them on the ground cried. “And he’s hurt us terribly.”

The two standing snout collectors turned and ran. I could have given chase and caught them, but instead I approached their three helpless companions who were left on the ground and kneeled beside them. I took a knife from one of them.

“Maybe I should start my own collection,” I said, and I placed the blade under his nose. All I needed to do was push my thumb against the back of the blade, and his nose would come clean off.

“Please, Cap’n, don’t do that,” he pleaded. “I got a mum and two sisters. Don’t do that to me. We were just having our fun, that’s all.”

“How many noses have you collected so far? And do not lie. I know when I’m being lied to!”

He hesitated before telling me that so far he had only collected a mere four noses, and that two of them were only little beaks that together barely amounted to a full nose. He started blubbering then, and in his tears added, “But it was done for sport, Cap’n. We weren’t out to cause any real mischief.”

“Just a group of high-spirited gentlemen,” I said.

“That’s all we are, Cap’n.” Then he was sobbing too hard for further words.

The thought of someone maiming innocent passersby for sport sickened me. He deserved to be marked for his villainy, and he certainly did not deserve the mercy that I showed him, for I broke the knife blade in my hand, and left him and his two companions with their noses still attached to their faces.

They were not the only villains that I encountered in the darkness of London. That same night I had others try to attack me, some for sport who also gave themselves colorful names, others expecting to rob me. The same happened every night that I walked the dark London streets, even when I tried to walk along the banks of the Thames to avoid them. These villains that came from the dark to prey on the innocent seemed as numerous as the rats that I would see scurrying about, although none of them that approached me fared any better than the snout collectors.

It was our fourth day in London when Frankenstein showed up at the flat early in the evening before the sun had fallen. He had been spending his days consulting with other occultists and scientific researchers so that he could gain the necessary knowledge for his planned operation regarding Johanna, and had been too preoccupied in his thoughts to show much life during this time. That evening he was flushed with excitement as he announced that I would have to forgo my nightly activities, for he had plans to bring me to a special gathering.

“We will be leaving here at ten o’clock sharp, for we have an invitation to an exclusive club where you will be the guest of honor,” he said nearly breathless.

“The Pig Snout Club?” I asked He gave me a curious look, but did not bothering pursuing my dubious comment, and he soon left me to prepare for the evening’s festivities.

By ten o’clock, Frankenstein was dressed in his finest clothing, complete with a red satin cape, and his skin was still burning a bright pink over the anticipation that he held for the gathering. A coach was waiting for us when we left the flat. The moon wasn’t much more than a crescent and only a few stars were able to break through the haze of the night air. While Frankenstein had the driver hold his lantern so that he could enter the coach safely, he asked the driver to go back to his station when it was my turn so that I could slip in unseen.

While the coach drove away, thoughts rattled through my head of how I could get my enemy onto the London streets at night, for I knew villains were skulking about out there. Frankenstein would not last more than a mile walking in the darkness before one of these villains caved in his head with a club or stuck him through the heart with a knife. But there was nothing I could do to trick him into leaving the coach, and when I turned to throw him out by force, my arms slackened at my side and became dead things.

He sensed my movement and gave me a puzzled look. “Do you want something, Friedrich?” he asked.

“Only to know about the nature of this club,” I muttered in defeat.

“You will see soon enough, my friend.”

I sat back hating myself for my weakness. But I knew I had only been deluding myself. Even if I had the strength to push him from the coach, fear of losing my Johanna forever would have overpowered me and would have stilled me as surely as Frankenstein’s black magic had. I sat back within my seat and brooded in my self-loathing.

CHAPTER

24

The coach followed along the Thames for several miles before turning down a narrow unlit street, then making additional turns on several more cramped roadways before coming to a stop by a stone wall. The driver craned his neck to look back at Frankenstein and to tell him that this was the address. “You’re sure this is where you want to be let off?” the driver asked him.

“Yes, of course. Let me make use of your lantern.”

The driver reluctantly handed over his lantern. Frankenstein held it as he left the coach, then stood with his back to the stone wall. I followed him but stood outside of the glow of the light. Seconds later a man wearing a black cape similar to mine stepped out from the darkness to stand next to Frankenstein. As he got closer to the light from the lantern I could see that he also wore a black mask over his eyes and nose as if he were a bandit. He did not say anything, but even with his mask I could see him staring intently at my enemy.

“We will be drinking heartily to our master’s good health and rosy glow,” Frankenstein uttered softly, and this costumed man nodded his assent at these words.

“Here, give this back to the driver,” Frankenstein said hurriedly, handing me the lantern. As I returned it to the driver, his eyes grew wide as he saw my size from the glimmer of the light that the lantern produced, but he did not say anything, and with a lash of his whip sent the horses pulling his coach away. It was then that the man who had slipped out from the shadows to meet Frankenstein pressed in an innocuous fashion on several stones along the wall, causing a hidden doorway to unveil itself to us as a section of the wall swung out. The costumed man then led us down a steep and winding stone staircase, the ceiling of which was so low that even Frankenstein had to stoop to keep from grazing his head, and I had to walk nearly bent over. As we navigated down these steps, Frankenstein commanded me to lower my hood, as it would not be necessary where we were going.

Finally we reached the bottom of the staircase and entered a room that was filled with steam and the smell of sulfur, as if we had entered Hell itself. Red flames burned along the path we walked, and cages filled with fluttering bats hung from the stone ceiling. At the end of this room, our guide opened an iron door that was so small I had to get on my knees to crawl through it, and afterward found myself inside of a room that was considerably cooler than the steam-filled room that we just left. This new room held about a dozen people, most of whom were dressed in similar costumes to our guide. Some of these people were lying sprawled upon fur-lined divans, while others were standing. Our guide did not join us but instead left, presumably so that he could bring down other visitors who were able to tell him the same password that Frankenstein had.

This time I did not have to worry about scraping my head against the ceiling for it was over twenty feet high. The group of people rushed toward us, and one of them handed both Frankenstein and myself pewter goblets that were formed in the shape of Satan’s head, complete with curved horns. Frankenstein whispered to me that members of the club all wore black capes and masks while guests wore what they pleased.

“He does drink, doesn’t he?” this man asked.

Frankenstein laughed at that. “More than ten men. I’ve seen him empty many a bottle of wine and brandy without bothering to come up for air.”

“Well, then, he should enjoy some good old English whiskey!” This man peered closer at me, his eyes squinting. “Remarkable, truly remarkable,” he muttered. “And you built him yourself? I would have guessed that he had come straight from the bowels of Hell!”

“It was my handiwork,” Frankenstein said, a smug smile curving his lips. “But Hell did play a role. It was Satan’s power that breathed life into him. In his own way he is as close to Satan as we will ever get, at least in this lifetime.”

“How did you bring him to life?” this man asked.

“A rare book I uncovered,” Frankenstein said. “Over five hundred years old, and from this I was able to unlock the secrets of alchemy. And he is proof of it!”

“Is it… I mean, he, safe?” one of the other guests asked.

“Quite,” Frankenstein said with a thin smile. “Right now he would like to do nothing more than to rip me to pieces, but he is incapable of doing anything other than being my obedient slave, thanks to the satanic magic that I employed. Isn’t that true, Friedrich?”

I drank the amber liquid in my goblet before answering him, and the whiskey burned my throat. Once, Herr Klemmen and I drank cognac together to celebrate my betrothal to Johanna, but this beverage was stronger. I handed my empty goblet to one of the guests for him to refill it.

“Throttling you would be sufficient,” I said.

My answer brought a vindictive glint to Frankenstein’s eyes, but before he could say anything else one of the women club members commented about how strong I looked. “Could we have a demonstration?”

“Of course, madam,” Frankenstein said with a polite bow, and he nodded toward two of the club members, both of whom with their round pear-shaped bodies and thick whiskers would have been in trouble if they ever ended up in the hands of the surviving members of the pig snout collectors. I grabbed them by the backs of their capes, holding them so that I also had a grasp of their jackets, and I raised my arms so that I lifted them straight up into the air. They sputtered their indignation over this, and were red faced by the time I dropped them back to the floor. Several of the other members were laughing at this demonstration, and these two men decided that it would be better to take it in good humor.

“Can you have him disrobe?” the same woman member asked. “I would like to see him naked!”

Several of the other members and guests murmured their desire for this also. I instantly regretted my throttling comment and gave Frankenstein a pleading look. His vindictiveness continued to glimmer in his eyes for a long moment, but it faded and he surprisingly shook his head.

“I am sorry, but Friedrich is here as a guest, as I am, and it will be his decision whether he disrobes.”

More whiskey was handed to me and my hand shook as I drank it. I was relieved, but still hated that I had to feel gratitude to Frankenstein for not forcing me to debase myself in front of this group. I handed my once again empty goblet to the same member to pour me more whiskey. As I looked around the room I saw a few small statues and other artifacts that confirmed to me that these people liked to think of themselves as devil worshippers, or at least they liked to play that role. Maybe it was the whiskey, or maybe it was that I desired to show them what frauds they were, but I mentioned how I had spent over two weeks with devil worshippers. That got their attention. Even Frankenstein raised an eyebrow.

“This was in the Austrian forest. They were holding a black mass at the base of a rock shaped like the Devil’s skull. When I stepped forward they mistook me for Satan, believing they had summoned me forth with their mass.”

“What happened next?” one of them asked.

I was handed more whiskey. This time I only took a sip instead of draining the pint that was held in the goblet. “They catered to my every whim,” I said. “After a while I grew tired of it, and them as well, and I sent them to their deaths.”

A few of them laughed nervously at that. “And how did you do that?” asked one of the pear-shaped men that I had lifted.

“I directed them to travel to where I knew a nest of vampyres would be waiting.”

That drew more nervous laughter from them.

“The stories that this creature tells,” one of them said. “Such an imagination!”

“Yes, such,” Frankenstein agreed. “Next he’ll be telling us that he’s the dark avenger that London has been whispering about over the last three days. The one who supposedly has recently taken to roaming the dark London streets so that he can injure the villains and other such bandits waiting to prey on the good citizens of this city.”

I was surprised that these types of stories were already circulating, and although Frankenstein said this with a thin smile, I knew from the hardness in his eyes that he suspected I was this person, as he probably also suspected that my story about the devil worshippers was more than simply my imagination.

I drank more of the whiskey, and was beginning to feel the effects of it. “The devil worshippers I met might have been despicable,” I said as a scowl twisted my lips, “but at least they were sincere in their practice.”

“And how so?” one of them asked with a chuckle.

“Human sacrifices, for example,” I said, my voice breaking into a soft mumble. I looked away from them to stare instead into the bottom of my now almost empty goblet. “They were devoted, I will give them that. Despicable, but devout. They did more than stand about in the safety of a private club and drink whiskey.”

The club member who had been filling my goblet with whiskey laughed at that. “While we may not perform human sacrifices here, we do more than just drink whiskey. This is only a meeting room. Let me show you more of our club.”

He led us to the other side of the room and to a set of heavy red curtains, all the while talking excitedly to Frankenstein. When he got to these curtains, he reached into his cape and handed us hickory sticks and then beamed at us.

“Welcome to Satan’s Paradise,” he announced with a grin. “Nothing quite like this on earth, I guarantee you.”

“What are these sticks for?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” he said.

Frankenstein pushed through the curtains first, and then I followed.

CHAPTER

25

We found ourselves in a large cavernous room teeming with club members, guests, and naked girls. Some of these girls wore masks to make them appear as if they were daemons, others had their faces exposed. I heard fluttering above me and saw that bats were flying free in this cavern, but none of the people there seemed bothered by this. Fires also burned by the walls. I lowered my gaze and found myself staring in disbelief at the scene in front of me. Most of the club members and guests sat in majestic armchairs, but if they needed to put their goblets down one of the naked girls would run over, bend to her hands and knees, and allow her back to be used as a table. Other of these naked girls walked around the room, flaunting their bodies to the club members and guests, occasionally bending over so that their bottoms could be flogged with a hickory stick.

My attention was distracted by club members and guests who came over to gawk at me and to ask Frankenstein questions about my construction. One of them noticed that my goblet was empty and went to refill it. When the goblet was returned I drank the whiskey quickly, hoping to dull my senses to this place. When my gaze wandered around the room, I found myself staring at a scene unfolding before me, not believing my eyes, but sickened nonetheless. One of the club members had lowered his trousers and dropped to his knees so that he could enter one of girls who was acting as a living drink table from behind. As he rocked back and forth to push himself into her, the girl showed no evidence of this happening, not in her expression and not in allowing herself to be moved even an inch.

The noxious spell holding me was broken by one of the club members elbowing me. “Pity her if she lets as much as a drop of the drink spill,” he said with a wicked grin. “She knows the punishment that will be waiting for her if she does. And, my enormous friend, feel free to make use of any of these girls in the same manner. That’s what they’re here for! Although, I daresay, they’ll have their work cut out to keep from spilling their drinks if you were to have a go at them!”

I looked away, disgusted that I had ever caught sight of it. It was then that I spotted him. He stood in the shadows, away from the rest of them. Tall, finely dressed, with his black cape and mask signifying him as a club member, and his black boots so expertly polished that they glinted. His body had an angular look to it, like a knife blade, and when I saw his dead pale eyes behind his mask, I recognized what he was. I pushed my way past the crowd that had grown around me so that I could stand next to this solitary figure.

“Do any of them know what you are?” I asked.

He turned to glance briefly at me with his dead eyes before fixing his gaze on one of the young girls being used as a drink table. Even in his fine clothing and his immaculate grooming, he held a feral quality. He did not bother answering me.

“I know what you are because I have seen your kind before,” I said. “I saw them when they ran naked and wild in the forest like animals. That was where they hunted their prey, not in a club for the wealthy and bored.”

He turned again to look at me. “Why are you bothering me?” he asked.

“I am simply surprised, that’s all. I did not expect to see a vampyre here, or in London, for that matter, especially one dressed as you are. I am curious. Are there other vampyres like you hiding among men as if they were one of them?”

“Why, are you jealous that you will never be able to do so?”

I did not answer him, but neither did I move away from him. I could tell that my presence bothered him.

“Must you stand by me?” he asked at last, the civility in his voice strained.

“I am still curious,” I said. “Can you transform into a wolf as your forest cousins did?” A bat swooped close enough nearby that I had to move my head to avoid a collision, and that caused a harsh smile to wrinkle my face. “Was that one of your brethren, or is that only a superstition?”

When he turned again to me his eyes were dark coals that held burning embers glowing hotly within them. “You have grown very irritating,” he said, his voice the same hiss a snake might make.

“That may be so,” I said. “But you will not be feasting tonight on that young girl whom you have been salivating over.”

“And what matter is that of yours?”

“None, but she will not be your victim. At least not tonight.”

He laughed at that, the sound emanating from him was something icy, something terrible. “You wish her for yourself? Is that what a creature like you feasts on, the flesh of young girls?”

“Hardly. I prefer berries and mushrooms from the forest.”

He regarded me coldly, his lips pulling into a tight, bloodless smile. “Then why are you making this an issue?” he asked.

I did not attempt to answer him, for I wasn’t sure myself why I was doing this.

“How would you intend to stop me? With force? My strength and speed could surprise you.”

“Doubtful. I have already witnessed your kind’s speed, and I am sure your strength is equally impressive. But I see no reason to do battle with you, not when I can expose you for what you are to this club. So leave now before I do that.”

“And you think that would matter to them?”

“I would think so, yes.”

A fury exploded in his eyes, but then just as quickly it seemed to burn out, and his eyes were back to the icy, dead, pale things I had seen earlier. He gave me a short nod.

“Very well,” he said. “I will leave here, for all the good it will do. You don’t think that there are hundreds of young girls out there that I can pick to feed on instead?”

“That may be, but you will not be feasting on this one.”

He shook his head at me as if I were something pathetic, but did not argue any further, and I watched as he glided across the room, moving like smoke, and then disappeared through the red curtains. I wondered why I had bothered chasing him away. What I did was futile, and it amounted to little more than flailing away in a ridiculous attempt to prove that I was different from Frankenstein. The more I thought of it the more disgusted I became with myself. It was then that I spotted where the whiskey was being kept, and I moved over there so that I could pour myself enough of it to dull the thoughts that were bombarding my mind. All I wanted then was that, and to blind myself to the scenes that were playing out around me.

Frankenstein was in a sour mood when we later took a coach back to his flat. He was a bit drunk, and I was much more so. For several minutes he brooded silently, and then he spat out his distaste for the club. “Disgusting,” he pronounced. “That those girls are there of their own free will and are paid handsomely for every welt they take on their backside and every cock that enters them! It makes the proceedings there nothing but a mockery, defeating the very purpose of what we are trying to accomplish!” His voice lowered as he stewed in his anger. “A disgrace, Friedrich, an absolute disgrace. That club was filled with nothing but imposters. Children playing their games.”

“You prefer it then when innocents are taken against their will and cruelly tortured and defiled. Is that when you are happy?”

He turned angrily toward me as if he were going to strike me, but his emotions fizzled. “You don’t understand yet, Friedrich. What we will be doing with our performance is striking a blow against the hypocrisy of this so-called enlightened world of ours that murders with impunity in the name of God and state, but refuses to acknowledge that we are the same as any other beast in nature.” His voice trailed off into a whisper as he shook his head and added, “When you see our performance you will understand this, also.” He brooded silently after that before turning to me with an inquisitive smile.

“The gentleman that you chased out of the club. Why?”

“He was a vampyre there to feed on one of the young girls. I did not care to have him do that, so I ordered him to leave.”

He stared at me blandly, then shook his head. “You seemed to have found a hole in the spell, Friedrich. It appears that it is allowing you to lie to me. It is not supposed to. Fine. Keep your secret then.”

With that he went back to his brooding over all of the moral deficiencies he found with the club. How they weren’t sufficiently evil for his tastes.

When we arrived at the flat, and the coach driver had let us out and had driven away, Frankenstein informed me that we would be leaving early the next morning for Scotland. That he had gathered all the knowledge that he needed for the operation that he would be performing.

CHAPTER

26

When we left London, we did so by hackney coach, with Frankenstein having little care whether the driver was alarmed by my size. I was hidden within my cape, and while the driver of the coach glanced back nervously at me numerous times, he did not have the courage to say anything. When he left us at a pier where Frankenstein had chartered a boat, the driver only seemed relieved to be free of us and more than happy to drive away hastily and without making any sort of fuss.

The boat took us up the eastern coast to Edinburgh. During this trip both of us were too preoccupied to pay the other any attention; Frankenstein presumably deep in thought about the operation that he would be performing while I couldn’t stop thinking of Johanna soon being brought back to me and how she would react to my new appearance. A nervousness twisted my insides as I thought of this, and my stomach seized up every time I imagined how she might scream or simply show a look of horror upon her face on seeing the hideous form that I had been made into. As much as I longed to see Johanna again, I equally dreaded the thought of her seeing me as I now was.

The boat arrived in Edinburgh late in the evening, and we spent the night at a house that Frankenstein had waiting for us. Again, we were too absorbed in our own thoughts to bother acknowledging each other, let alone speaking any words to each other.

The next morning Frankenstein had a coach take us further north to the coast. This driver also paid me quite a bit of attention, but unlike the other drivers that we had so far encountered, this one was not shy in speaking to me.

“Warm isn’t in, gov’nor, to be wearing such a heavy cape as that?” he asked.

I did not bother answering him, but that didn’t deter him.

“You’re a big’un, aren’t you? How tall are you? Seven feet? Never saw no one your size before.”

Frankenstein had been absorbed in his thoughts, but this brought him to life and he snapped at this man to watch the road and not to pester me with any further questions, at least if he wanted to be paid for his services. The driver apologized, but still kept glancing back at me suspiciously. When we reached a desolate area along the shoreline, Frankenstein had the driver stop the coach. He first took a gold watch from his pocket to see the time, then got out of the coach, and after pulling a small folding telescope from out of his inside jacket pocket, used it to spy in all directions. Satisfied with what he saw, he ordered the driver to take his trunk down from the coach where it had been stored. The driver struggled doing this and several times glanced in my direction hoping that I would offer to help, which I ignored. He did not need to see that I could have lifted the trunk with one hand. After several minutes of his huffing and puffing he had it on the ground. He was then paid and told that he was no longer needed.

His expression queered as he looked about this desolate area. “You want me to leave you here in the middle of nothin’?” he asked.

“That is what I am asking.”

He shrugged and climbed back on top of his coach. After he drove away, Frankenstein pointed out an island to me.

“That is where we will be going,” he said. “A rowboat should be waiting for you no more than a mile down this coast. I would have you come with me, but I am afraid with your additional weight we would capsize the rowboat I have arranged for myself.”

Frankenstein glanced once more at his pocketwatch as a way to dismiss me, and I turned and headed off in the direction that he was sending me. The rowboat was where he had said it would be, and I used it to row myself to the island, which was only a little more than a mile from the coast. With my great strength, the trip was quick, and at times the boat appeared to barely skim the water’s surface. When I reached the island, I saw another dinghy with two men aboard also coming to the island, and I knew that Frankenstein was one of those men. From the distance they still had to travel and given the speed at which they were propelling the boat, it would take them another half hour to reach the island’s shore. I left the water’s edge then to quickly explore the island before returning and waiting for my enemy.

I was able to cover the grounds in less than a half hour. The island was a barren place, mostly rocks, and held little more than four small cottages. From a distance I spied a man and a woman entering one of these cottages. From the manner of their dress they must have been servants. Both appeared to be large-framed with an extraordinary dullness about them. I guess as well as being servants they were most likely also husband and wife. I did not call attention to myself so it was doubtful that they saw me.

There was a grayness about the island that not even the late afternoon sun could dispel. A shiver ran through me as I sat and waited for the other rowboat to arrive. Without looking inside any of the cottages, I knew that in one of them a girl was being held captive, the one who would be transformed into Johanna. I tried not to think of her and the terror that she must be suffering. I tried telling myself there was nothing that I could do about it; that Frankenstein’s black magic held too much power over me, but I still felt myself a coward and a fraud.

It took Frankenstein and his companion much longer than a half hour to bring the rowboat to the island, as they had trouble with the waves and the undertow. The sun was already setting by the time their boat pushed onto the rocky shore. They both looked winded as they climbed out of the boat with perspiration glistening upon their faces. But Frankenstein smiled excitedly as he stepped first from the boat.

“Friedrich, I see that you beat us here,” he said. “Not that that should have been any surprise. I would like you to meet a childhood friend of mine, Henry Clervil. He will be observing our experiment, and will later journey back with us to my castle.”

The other man was Frankenstein’s age. Tall, finely dressed, with sharp features and a sallow complexion made to appear even more so by his black hair. Like Frankenstein, he was incapable of disguising the cruelty that he held in his eyes and mouth. As I looked at him, I felt as if I had seen him before.

“Do I know you?” I asked.

His eyes showed only slightly more life than those of the vampyre’s I had encountered in that depraved club in London, and the light faded quickly from them as the look he favored me with turned dismissive. “I don’t believe so,” he said as he left the boat to join my enemy.

Frankenstein had me carry his trunk for him, and as he walked to one of the cottages, he explained that the operation would be done the following morning. “This will be a more difficult operation than my construction of you, Friedrich. The task of replacing one brain with another while leaving the rest of the body intact is a delicate one and requires far more precision. But after a restful night’s sleep, and assuming that I have a strong morning sun, I should be able to proceed.”

He had me leave his trunk at the cottage where he would be residing, and then he led us to a cottage that was farthest away from the others. Inside of this one were all the instruments and devices he would need for the operation, as well as the young girl that I had chosen to be Johanna. This girl lay on a small cot, her eyes swollen and rimmed with red as if she had been crying miserably for days. She avoided looking at us. I saw that a manacle was attached to her right ankle, chaining her to the cot so that she would be unable to move more than a few feet from it, with the cot itself bolted to the floor. Frankenstein ignored her and instead opened a wooden crate. From this he removed a glass bowl, inside of which floated a lump of grayish matter in a similar milky liquid that had sustained Charlotte.

“Here is what remains of your Johanna Klemmen,” Frankenstein said, his eyes intent on the contents of the bowl. “Her brain.”

Clervil stood transfixed as he also stared at this bowl. I looked away. The thought of Johanna’s skull having been cut open so that her brain could be removed from it disturbed me greatly. I knew she was dead at the time and would not have felt anything, but still this violation to her body struck me as utterly inhuman. And yet, the same was going to happen to this girl who lay only a few feet from me, and I was going to be complicit in the act.

Frankenstein had enough of studying Johanna’s brain, and he packed the bowl away. He commented that the brain showed no signs of atrophy or decay. “It should be fine,” he said. “Tomorrow, Friedrich, you will be reunited with your betrothed and we will see if her memories have remained intact. For tonight, you will stay here and keep your future bride company.”

A panic seized my throat at the thought of doing this. “I would like to stay in one of the other cottages tonight,” I croaked out, my voice not much more than a guttural rasp.

“I am sorry, Friedrich, but that won’t be possible. I will be occupying one of the cottages, Henry another, and the final cottage is housing my servants.”

“Then I will sleep outside.”

“No, I prefer that you spend the night with your future bride.” A pitiless glimmer sparked in Frankenstein’s eyes, and Clervil’s lips also twisted into a thin smile. “I know it goes against accepted moral conventions to spend the night before your wedding with the bride, but in this case we’ll make an exception. Besides, it will allow you to more appropriately reflect on the decision you have made, and your role in the events that will be transpiring. Good night, Friedrich. And I do not want you leaving this cottage. Henry and I have much to discuss, and I do not wish to be disturbed.”

With that Frankenstein left. His friend, Clervil, turned once to look upon me the way a snake might a mouse, and then he also left. There was another cot along the opposite wall from where the girl lay and I sank into it, lowering my head heavily into my hands. As I sat there in my cowardice I tried not to think of the girl chained helplessly only a few yards or so from me. After some time, however, I could feel as if her eyes were boring into my skull, and that feeling soon became unbearable. I dared to glance toward her, and she was indeed staring at me. As swollen and red as her eyes were, the rest of her face was pale and bloodless.

“Am I to be your bride?” she asked in a tortured voice that pierced my heart. “Is that why you chose me and I was sent to this place? Am I to be married to a monster?”

I shook my head and lowered my eyes from hers. “No, that is not what it will be.”

“Then what will it be? I have the right to know!”

“You will be made … different.”

I could not keep myself from glancing up and seeing the confusion which wrecked her face. “How will I be made different?” she asked. Then it was as if a trace of the knowledge flickered in her eyes. “It has to do with that brain, doesn’t it?”

I nodded. “My betrothed was murdered, and that is what remains of her,” I said.

“I do not understand,” she said. “What does that have to do with me?”

I tried to smile at her, but from the way she reacted my attempt must have made me look even more hideous. The twisting within my stomach became something awful.

“You will be made into my Johanna,” I said at last.

“What are you saying?”

But she saw it. She made the connection then to her being brought to this island, all of the medical equipment and devices within the room, and my Johanna’s brain being kept in a glass jar in the very same room. Her mouth gaped open, but she was too stunned to cry or weep. “All of you are monsters,” she whispered in a voice that sounded like death. “You are going to take my brain and replace it with another? Is that why you chose me? To be made into something unnatural and monstrous like yourself?”

“If I did not choose you they would later commit utterly vile acts on your body and then kill you in a terrible way.”

“And this is not utterly vile? To turn me into a freakish thing?”

“At least now you will live,” I said.

But she knew this wasn’t true, just as I did. At least she would not be living in any way that could be thought of as natural. Her mouth closed, and she aged terribly in front of my eyes. The pain within her became an awful thing to witness.

“I would rather die,” she said. “My younger sister was stolen also. If they are going to murder her then I wish to be murdered also so that we may join our ancestors together. I do not wish this thing that will be done to me. It was evil of you to choose me.”

She started weeping then. The sound that she made was that of a wounded animal that needed to be taken out of its misery. I sat, helpless, and listened.

“I am sorry,” I said. “I wish there was something I could do to help you.”

“Unlock my chains!” she pleaded as she wept. “The keys are right there on the table! Or will you have me turned into a monster for your own selfish needs?”

“That is not my reason,” I implored. “Frankenstein holds a power over me that keeps me a slave to him. But I wish I could help you.”

When my words made sense to her, she started wailing and beating on her head with her fists. I got off the cot so that I could keep her from hurting herself. When I came within a few feet of her, she lurched forward and grabbed me by my cape and pleaded with me to kill her. “If you cannot help me, then end my life, I beg of you!”

Once more I was being asked to kill an innocent to save them. I could not bear to turn her down. I tried to lift my hands to her throat, but Frankenstein’s spell prevented me. She saw in my eyes that I was powerless to do as she begged, and she fell on the cot weeping violently.

I stepped away from her. When she had grabbed my cape I heard a crinkling noise, the type paper might make. I remembered then the odd little man I had met outside of Leipzig and the envelope he handed me. I searched the inside pocket of my cape and pulled out this envelope. It had yellowed and aged with time, and when I looked inside of it I saw dried plant leaves, and remembered this odd little man telling me that they were leaves from a jimson weed plant. I remembered what he told me about how I could use these leaves to cure myself. I looked around the room and saw that everything I needed in order to follow the instructions I was given was present. I felt an excitement as I acted once more as a chemist and generated a tincture from the leaves, and then diluted this in the method that was explained to me.

The girl had stopped her weeping to ask me what I was doing. I told her I wasn’t sure. Once I had the solution prepared, I placed several drops of it under my tongue. Nothing happened, at least at first. But as hours passed and night approached I felt a sense of peace that I could not remember since long before waking up within Frankenstein’s laboratory. I also realized that a noise that had been buzzing incessantly within my skull was gone. I hadn’t even been aware of this noise, but the new quiet that I sensed was something welcome and unfamiliar to me.

As I sat in the dark marveling over these changes that had occurred, I remembered where I had seen Henry Clervil before.

CHAPTER

27

Early the next morning Frankenstein’s servants departed the island by rowboat. I heard them as they left, and assumed that Frankenstein sent them away so that they would not be witness to what was going to be happening. It was a short time later that Frankenstein and Clervil entered the cottage. Frankenstein nodded brusquely at me and commented that he hoped I had had a good night’s sleep. He was too absorbed in his planned operation to have paid any attention to what I might have said. His friend, Clervil, was the same way: both of their faces hardened with eagerness and anticipation. Neither of them paid attention to their surroundings within the cottage as they headed straight to the wooden crate where they had stored Johanna’s brain the evening before. I had learned during the night that the girl’s name was Mariel. If they had been paying attention, they would have noticed that Mariel’s manacle had been removed, even though she remained sitting on her cot.

“I remember where I saw you before,” I said, but both Frankenstein and Clervil were too caught up in their plans to bother listening to me. “Clervil,” I shouted this time, “I am speaking to you!”

Clervil turned to give me a forced look of patience that bordered on exasperation, but did not say anything to me.

“I saw you in Ingolstadt,” I said. “This was when I was still Friedrich Hoffmann.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is. In fact, it was my last night as Friedrich Hoffmann. I remember your face from the beer hall. At some point you must have stood next to me. Is that when you slipped your poison into my ale?”

He blinked but otherwise showed no reaction to my accusation. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said. He then turned away from me to help Frankenstein lift the wooden crate onto a table.

I roared then, and it was something fierce and horrible. Both of them turned around, a mix of surprise and amusement befuddling their faces. In a dizzying rush I was off the cot and moving toward them, and then I had Clervil by his jacket, lifting him so that his face was inches from mine. And now nothing but stark terror reflected in his expression. I roared again, and my face wrinkled into a horrible grin. I threw him against the wall with enough force that he went through the wooden structure and tumbled onto the ground outside. Frankenstein tried shouting something at me, but I ignored him. He would be for later. I followed Clervil through the hole in the wall that his body made, and I picked him up again. His eyes fluttered open and he opened his mouth as if he were trying to scream, but no noise came out.

“Why did you poison my ale?” I demanded.

“I-I did not! I swear—”

I slapped him across the mouth. Not hard enough to kill, or even injure him severely, but hard enough to break several teeth loose from his mouth. I knew the answer to what I was asking him, but I wanted still to hear the words from him.

“Do not lie to me or I will crush your head like a grape!”

I grabbed his skull and applied enough pressure to make his eyes bulge.

“I only did as Victor asked,” he cried.

“Frankenstein sent you to poison me?”

“Yes! Yes!”

“And he sent others to defile and murder Johanna Klemmen? Or did you do this? Or did he?”

Clervil was sobbing now, and in his tears he stammered out that Frankenstein had hired others to murder Johanna.

“Stop your crying now or I will slap you again, but this time with enough force so that you will lose all your teeth!”

He stopped his crying and pathetically begged me for mercy. “Please, I beg of you, I myself have a betrothed—”

“Shut up! Why did Frankenstein want to murder Johanna Klemmen, and arrange for me to be punished for this crime? Answer me!”

Clervil squeezed his eyes shut before answering me. “He needed an educated brain for constructing you,” he whimpered weakly. “When he learned of your betrothal to Johanna Klemmen, he wished also to perform this experiment to test the nature of attachment. He needed brain material from two young lovers.”

He told me only what I had long suspected, but there was no longer any doubt of Frankenstein’s culpability in the murders of Johanna and Friedrich Hoffmann. I threw Clervil then, sending him traveling twenty feet through the air. When he landed, he lay quietly for a moment. Then surprised that I had let go of him, he staggered to his feet, and in his panic to escape me he tripped and fell after only a few steps. His head struck sharply against a rock, and from the way his skull cracked open I knew he was dead. I left him to return back to the cottage.

The scene within the cottage showed Frankenstein cowering on the floor with his hands and arms covering his face to protect himself as Mariel struck blows at him, all the while screaming her hatred at him. I pulled her off of him.

“He deserves to die for what he has done,” she forced out, her eyes simmering with her rage, her small white face shining in its violence.

“You do not need his blood on your hands,” I implored her as I led her back to the cot.

She nodded. “What he has done to you is far worse,” she said in a harsh whisper. “If anyone deserves vengeance against him, it is you.”

I left her standing by the cot, but I did not wish her to see what was going to happen next. I found myself trembling greatly as I approached Frankenstein, my rage and hatred boiling within me. He looked at me, more confused than afraid.

“What happened to Johanna Klemmen’s brain?” he asked. “The bowl is empty. How am I to bring your betrothed back to you if her brain is missing?”

For a moment Frankenstein disappeared in a haze of red, the rage blistering inside of me too great to allow me to see properly. What happened next was as if it were a dream. I was barely aware of grabbing him by his jacket as I did Clervil, or lifting him into the air so that he could witness the fury burning in my eyes. I must have carried him through the hole in the cottage for the next thing I was aware of I was standing by Clervil’s body, with Frankenstein in my grasp and his feet dangling helplessly in the air. He was talking to me, trying to be patient as he kept saying over and over again for me to let him down, that the spell which he had rendered over me would prevent me from harming him. To prove otherwise I slapped him in the ear hard enough to cause it to immediately begin to swell. This stunned him and caused him to close his mouth. As I stared at him, another plan entered my mind, and I tossed him to the ground. I trembled as I told him to leave the island.

“But before you leave, I want you to look at your childhood friend, Henry Clervil. See how his brain is leaking from his skull? A pity, otherwise you could scoop it up and use it for your next wicked experiment.”

He glanced quickly toward his dead friend and he whitened to the color of milk. When he looked back at me his lips trembled as if he were encased in ice.

“If I leave now you will lose your beloved forever. Do you really want that, Friedrich?”

My hands closed into fists as I stared at him and fought to keep from ripping him to pieces. I said through clenched teeth, “You are trying my patience. Leave this island immediately or I will tear each of your limbs from your body, but I will do so in a way that will keep you alive for days.”

Any confusion that had remained in his face was gone, replaced instead by raw panic. He understood full well that he’d better listen to me. I watched as he struggled to stand and then as he ran to the shore, moving with the unsteady gait of a drunken man. He tripped several times in his fear, but eventually he reached the rowboats and pushed one of them into the water. It seemed to take him a great deal of effort before he was able to climb aboard it, but then he was rowing away. Slowly, but still propelling the boat away from the island’s shore. Only then did I open my fist to unveil the button that I had pulled from his jacket. A great sense of weariness came over me and I turned and walked to the area where I had buried the last of Johanna’s remains. I dropped to my knees and told her how sorry I was that I could not allow her to be brought back to me.

“It was not cowardice on my part, my beloved,” I whispered. “I knew that you would have felt the same warm feelings toward me regardless of what body I resided in. But it would have been a wicked act to allow harm to come to an innocent girl, and I knew that you would have been repelled by me if I had allowed it to happen. I was not deaf to the words that you spoke to me in my dream. We will have to be content with spending eternity together once I leave this earth.”

I mouthed a silent prayer to her, promising her that I would be joining her soon, and as I struggled to imagine my Johanna, a hand touched my shoulder. I looked up to see Mariel standing beside me, concern wrinkling her brow.

“Is this where you buried your betrothed’s remains?”

I nodded, at that moment unable to speak.

She tried to smile sympathetically at me but her exhaustion from all the evil that she had had to endure over these many months kept her from doing so. She asked about Frankenstein. “Is that fiend dead?”

I shook my head. I felt every bit as exhausted as she looked. “Clervil is,” I said. “He died when he fell in his panic to flee me. I will allow others to deal with Frankenstein. Come, we need to leave this place.”

She wanted to ask me more questions but stopped once she realized that I was too weary to answer her. I first carried Clervil’s body onto the last remaining rowboat, then went back and searched through the cottages until I found where the food and water was kept. I then loaded the rowboat with supplies, guessing that we might be on the water for some time. I also covered Clervil’s body with a sheet, and apologized to Mariel about needing to bring his body with us. She nodded, but did not say anything about it.

Once I pushed the rowboat from the shore and climbed in, I spotted Frankenstein in his boat and pointed him out to Mariel. Her face paled with hatred as she stared at him.

“He has not gone very far,” she said.

“No he hasn’t,” I agreed. “He appears to be struggling with the waves. We might be here for a while.”

“It is a good thing then that we have water and food.” Her eyes narrowed as she stared in Frankenstein’s direction. “And even better that he has none.”

“Mariel, it might be best if you try to get some sleep. You have been through a great ordeal.”

She nodded and positioned herself to try to sleep. Although she was tiny, a slender girl not even five feet tall, the boat was cramped, especially with Clervil’s body on board, but eventually she was able to contort herself so that she did not touch the corpse. Although it was summer, there was little sun and a coolness came off the water, and once she closed her eyes I covered her with a blanket that I had taken from one of the cottages. And then I set about to follow Frankenstein, but also to keep my distance from him so that he would not know I was behind him.

I was right about it taking a while, for it ended up taking many more hours than I would have guessed. Either due to his panic or the fact that he was dizzy from the blow that I had struck to his ear, Frankenstein appeared to have very little strength and his boat mostly drifted in the currents. At one point he collapsed, and I worried that he might be dead. It was too soon for that. He needed to first be condemned as a murderer by his fellow man, then he could die. I chewed on my lower lip, praying that he would show some life. Mariel awoke then, and squinting toward the other boat, asked whether Frankenstein was dead.

“I do not know,” I said.

We both sat watching this other boat while I let ours drift in the same current that carried Frankenstein’s. After a while I took out some food and water for myself and Mariel. We ate quietly, both of us staring intensely at the apparent lifeless form within the other boat. When Frankenstein awoke from his unconsciousness and began rowing again, even though it was done listlessly, I found myself grinning. It would not be fair for him to escape his crimes that easily. I continued to follow him as his boat drifted along, with him only occasionally influencing its travel.

When night came, Frankenstein had still made little progress, and I worried that he might drift out into the ocean where I would not be able to safely follow, at least not without putting Mariel’s life in jeopardy. We were many miles from the island and as far as I could tell, from Scotland, and still Frankenstein’s boat continued to drift aimlessly.

“Can you still see him in this darkness?” Mariel asked. Her teeth chattered from the cool night air, and I leaned over so that I could wrap the blanket once more around her.

“I can still see him,” I told her. “He appears to be having a great deal of difficulty in controlling his boat. I guess he is used to others doing his bidding for him and has little experience performing his own labors.”

She looked around in the darkness, and worry showed in her eyes. “Do you know where we are?” she asked.

“I do not, but don’t worry. I will be keeping the promise that I made to you last night after I unchained you. I will see you returned safely to a city before I leave you.”

She nodded again, but worry lines continued to show around her mouth, which I could not blame her for. After I had found myself free of Frankenstein’s spell, I searched my cape’s inner pockets for jewels and gold that I had originally stolen for Henriette but kept in case I would need them at a future time, and I had given Mariel enough of these jewels to not only guarantee her safe passage back to her home, but also to make her wealthy. It would be small compensation for what she had had to suffer through.

The night wore on. As I became more afraid that I would have to quit Frankenstein or risk Mariel’s safety, I spotted land and saw that my enemy’s boat was caught within a current that would wash it ashore. Mariel was asleep, and I followed Frankenstein’s boat without waking her. When I saw where the boat had landed, I marked the location in my mind, and then I proceeded to row as quickly as I could so that I could leave Mariel at a coastal village where she would be safe. Within minutes I traveled several miles as I sent the boat skipping along the ocean’s surface and found what I was searching for. After I brought the boat to shore, I helped Mariel off it. From the haziness of the sky it was predawn, still several hours before the sun would rise, and a small fishing village lay only a short distance away.

I was originally going to leave her there. But as I thought of how she only spoke German and did not have any knowledge of English, I had a change of heart.

“Wait here,” I said. “I will be back in only a short time. I want to ensure you safe passage back to your home in Erfurt before I leave you for good.”

She nodded, having been through too much already to argue with me. I left her the food and water, and then raced the rowboat back to where I had seen Frankenstein’s boat wash ashore. I spotted his boat, but Frankenstein must have wandered from it for he was not in sight, nor could I see anyone else in the gray haziness of the night. I carried Clervil’s body from the boat and dropped it in a clearing a few yards from where Frankenstein’s boat had been left. Before leaving Clervil’s body, I placed the button I tore from Frankenstein’s jacket within Clervil’s dead hand and folded this hand into a fist. I had earlier collected the teeth I had knocked from his mouth, and I spread these by his face, then I struck him hard enough in the jaw with an oar from Frankenstein’s boat to leave an imprint, and I let the oar drop not far from Clervil’s body. With that done I raced back to the rowboat I was using so I could return to Mariel, and was relieved when I found her where I had left her.

“You have done so much for me already,” she told me. “You do not need to do anything more.” But this was said halfheartedly, and I could tell that she was scared. Before Frankenstein’s paid villains had abducted her from her home, she had never left her native Saxony.

The village was only a half mile from where we stood, and we walked there together and quickly found an inn. I put my hood up, and dropped to my knees, hoping in these early hours that I could confuse the innkeeper about my height, and then I pounded on the door until the innkeeper appeared. From the puffiness of his eyes and from the way he yawned, I had woken him from his sleep, and from the way he scowled at me he was not happy about it. Still, even on my knees I was taller and broader than most men. I placed a dozen gold coins in his palm, and his attitude quickly changed to subservience.

“I wish for my niece to spend the remaining hours of the night here, and tomorrow you will arrange for her to travel back to her home in Erfurt, a city within Saxony. The gold I have paid you is more than double what the cost should be.”

“Aye, no worries, sir,” he said. “I will make sure that your niece returns home safely, don’t you worry.”

“You had better,” I told him. “I will be checking to make sure of it, and if anything happens to her the price you will pay will be very dear. She only speaks German, so arrange for her guide to be fluent in that language. And serve her a hearty breakfast in the morning!”

He nodded effusively, and I took his hand within mine so that he could see how massive my own hands were. He winced as he saw how his hand disappeared in the same manner that an infant’s would within an adult’s, and he promised me again that my niece would be well taken care of. I knew from his expression that there would be nothing to worry about. I then turned to Mariel and explained to her in German what I had arranged, and I repeated the promise I made to her the night before—that I would see all of the prisoners within Frankenstein’s dungeon returned home safely, and that I would tell her sister, Alice, that she was safe and would be waiting for her in their home. Mariel flung her arms around me, barely reaching the circumference of my chest, and began crying and thanking me profusely for saving her. I looked away in discomfort and patted her head, and the innkeeper also showed his embarrassment even though he had no idea what she was saying.

“Don’t worry, sir, believe me when I tell you I will see that she is taken good care of,” he promised, and he took her by the hand and led her into his inn. Once the door closed, I rose to my feet, and after sighing heavily, I made my way back to where I had left the boat.

Before I left this place, I needed to check on the mischief that I had created, and I stole my way to the nearest village where Frankenstein’s rowboat had washed ashore. This turned out to be Clogherhead, Ireland, and as I expected, Frankenstein was arrested that same morning for the murder of Henry Clervil. I spied all this from a distance, but when I saw him being accused of the murder and later taken to the jail in the city of Drogheda, I was mostly satisfied. While I would have preferred for him to answer for his true crimes, at least this would mark him as a murderer, and he would pay as dearly for Clervil as he would have for Johanna’s and Friedrich Hoffmann’s murders, let alone all of his other ungodly acts.

I watched as he was locked away behind bars before I finally quitted this place.

CHAPTER

28

For at least twenty minutes I heard the donkeys braying as they pulled the wagon up the steep path that they were being urged to travel. I tried not to think too much of this and pulled a cork from another bottle of wine. By the time the wagon had reached the top of the cliff, I had finished this bottle, and I threw it into the stone fireplace and watched as the bottle exploded into tiny glass fragments. The fireplace and floor around it was littered several inches deep with these fragments. So many wine bottles, at least a third of what had been left in a well-stocked cellar.

I sat and listened as he approached the main gate, and heard his gasps and cries when he saw the ruin that was done to his castle. He must have known I was there, but he did not flee, and instead I heard his footsteps echoing across the marble floor. To leave no doubt about my presence, I opened another bottle of wine and drank it hastily so that I could smash the bottle in the fireplace. When he heard this noise, his footsteps stopped for only a minute, and then they continued. I sat quietly after that and waited for him.

Frankenstein was as pale as a ghost when he entered the dining room. His body near emaciated, his cheeks sunken, his eye sockets gray and hollowed, his hair in disarray as if he had been caught in a windstorm. He waited silently for me to speak, his eyes near lifeless. I stared at him for a long moment before I felt that I could control myself to say what was on my mind.

“I have been waiting here for months for you,” I said. “Ever since I heard of your release for Clervil’s murder. I thought your conviction and death, even if done by a quick hanging, would satisfy my thirst for revenge, but now with this obscenity of your release my desire for revenge is burning hotter than ever before, and I have spent months pondering what to do.”

“It was no obscenity,” he said, his voice a dull, listless drone to match his wasted appearance. “I was innocent of Henry’s murder.”

“You were,” I acknowledged. “Just as I was of Johanna Klemmen’s murder, but that did not prevent me from being broken on the wheel for it, and the evidence against me was no more compelling than the evidence against you. But I was a member of the working class, and never fully understood the power of wealth, and how a wealthy father can buy a son’s freedom no matter what evidence stands against him.”

He remained silent, and I shrugged, not really caring what he had to say regarding the matter. “Do you like what I have done to your castle?” I asked, forcing my grin.

“Why? Was it necessary to destroy it?”

“I had months to spend waiting for you and I wanted to put the time to good use. I should commend you on your wine cellar. Very well stocked, and an excellent selection.”

I tottered to my feet. He took a step backward, but did not run away. I don’t think he would have been capable of fleeing; from the way he had paled his legs most likely would have given out on him.

“I am quite drunk,” I said. “That is the only reason I am able to keep from killing you right now. I do not know if you have had a chance to fully appreciate the destruction I have done to this castle, but let me give you a tour.”

Frankenstein stood frozen as I moved toward him. When I reached him I stood grinning harshly, and then grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, and proceeded to half carry him so that I could give him a tour of his castle. He put up no resistance to this, although I had him lifted so that his toes dragged on the floor, so I doubt any resistance would hardly have been possible. The first room I took him to had once been his evil amphitheater.

“I am especially proud of my handiwork here,” I said. I twisted him around so he could view the full extent of what I had done. All the furniture within the room had been broken into pieces, and the wall that the mural had been painted on had been stripped to bare stone. The floor of the room was littered with rubble.

“You should have seen how they tried to scream when I punched holes through the mural and tore it apart,” I said. “You would have thought that they were truly living instead of figures painted on a wall. If I could have left the women alone I would have, but unfortunately that was not possible, for the men all ran and hid behind the women, or at least they tried to. I have to give you credit, not only did you instill in these painted men your dark soul, but also your cowardice. As you can see, I destroyed the entire wall, and when I broke apart their figures, their faces settled into death masks. I was going to burn these pieces, but I saved them for you to see.”

I picked up one of the fragments from the wall which showed the face of one of the malicious waltzing men, and he indeed looked like a corpse the way his eyes were closed and the trickle of blood that ran from his lips and the greenish tinge to his skin. Frankenstein looked at this but only blanched at its sight. I held him where he was so he could fully appreciate the extent of the damage that was done to the room, and then I dragged him to each of the closets off of the room so he that he could see that they were equally turned to rubble.

“You haven’t asked about your guests,” I said as I dragged him to the boudoirs on this floor so that he could see the destruction that was done to them. “They were here when I first arrived. This was when I still believed you were going to be convicted of Clervil’s murder. I am afraid most of them are probably dead now, although not exactly by my hand.”

Frankenstein hadn’t made a sound as I dragged him from room to room to see how I had left them in ruin. I turned him toward me to make sure he hadn’t passed out for I wanted him to fully appreciate the fate his guests had suffered, and when I saw that he was staring at me wide-eyed but too terrified to utter a word, I continued.

“I forced them each to select an illustration from your planned drama, and I promised them that I would act out those illustrations on their bodies if they did not within one hour’s time climb down the path by foot to the base of the cliff. In their haste many of them tumbled off the cliff, and their bodies could be seen until the snow covered them. The few that made it to the bottom might have survived, but given the way they were dressed and the fact that I hadn’t allowed them to take any supplies, I doubt they made it out of the Chamounix valley. Although, who knows? Perhaps one of them did. But it did seem a fitting ending for them given how anxious they were to see those illustrations acted out on others.”

Frankenstein showed no reaction to this, and I was afraid that he might have slipped into a state of shock. When I slapped him to see whether he was still with me, he asked in a thin but irritable voice whether that was necessary. Grinning harshly, I dragged him up the stairs so that he could see how I had turned the living quarters into a ruin of what they had been, with every piece of furniture destroyed and every wall demolished.

“You might be relieved to know that I made sure that your honored Marquis was sent by donkey wagon back to Paris,” I said. “I wanted him alive. I did very depraved things to him, things that I am sure must have made him insane, and I wanted him to be able to live out his miserable remaining years within a lunatic asylum. I made sure to escort him personally down the path, and gave the carriage driver explicit directions where to take him, although I asked him to take the donkey wagon instead of the horse carriage.”

“That is good,” Frankenstein uttered in his petulant drone. “I am glad the Marquis was sent in good health.”

I couldn’t tell whether he was being sarcastic with me or was just too numb to understand my words, but I continued with our tour. “You might also like to know that all of your prisoners were set free,” I said. “Not only that but I made sure that they were brought safely to Geneva. I used the wealth left behind by your guests so that these innocents would be compensated for what was done to them. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough, but at least it would guarantee their safe passage back to their homes and allow them to live out their lives in comfort, and maybe someday they will be able to forget the terror that you inflicted on them.”

“That was very generous of you, Friedrich.”

This was said sarcastically, and I trembled for a moment as I fought to keep from breaking his neck. Thank God for the wine I drank!

“Do not say my name again,” I warned him. “I won’t be killing you while I give you this tour, but if you say my name again I will start breaking your bones.”

He nodded his understanding of what I promised, and as I dragged him from room to room my temper eased.

“Fortunately none of the prisoners knew your name,” I continued, my voice calm again. “If they had you would have been imprisoned, and I would not be able to act out my plans. At first I was willing to let society punish you for what you have done to me and Johanna and all of your other victims. But over these past months since your release from that Irish prison, my thirst for vengeance has grown and has become something nearly insatiable. No, letting a court punish you will no longer do. And now I have an entirely different fate mapped out for you.”

We were done with the upper floors and I dragged him down the stone steps to the dungeon. When we arrived there he saw that his eight pillars of death had been left intact.

“Pick a number between one and eight,” I told him.

He began crying then. A pitiful whimpering cry. “Please, don’t,” he begged. “You have already ruined me. You don’t have to do any more.”

I struck the stone wall with all my might, and the stone cracked under the blow. “Pick your number!” I roared.

In his fright he picked the number four.

“Ah, a coward’s number,” I said, as I chained him to the fourth pillar. “This one is only a quick spike through the heart. There are so many more fitting numbers that you could have picked, but no one can ever say that I am not a man of my word. Or should I say, an abomination of my word.”

“I gave you life!” he cried out. “How can you act so unmercifully to the one who gave you life? And these crimes you accuse me of, they were for the greater good, both for medical knowledge, and to show the world its hypocrisy, for how can you expect man to evolve if they don’t understand the nature of their cruelty!”

I had to stand very still for otherwise I would have murdered him instantly. “How dare you say these words to me,” I said, my voice every bit as cruel and inhuman as anything Frankenstein had ever dreamt up. “You murdered Friedrich Hoffmann and Johanna Klemmen, and you did this not for any medical knowledge, but so that you could act as God and perform your unholy experiments. How can you dare to argue any high-minded reasons for what you were going to do to your prisoners? Evil men will always try to rationalize their acts with a higher purpose, but what you have said so far is rubbish. I saw the way you and your guests looked at these prisoners, I saw the anticipation and bloodlust burning in your faces. So do not dare tell me that you had any other reason for your planned drama than wanting to enjoy watching young girls and children defiled and murdered!”

With that I pulled the chain for this death machine. Frankenstein shrieked then, and looked flabbergasted when nothing happened.

“I disabled the gears to this evil machine,” I said. “If you had nine lives, then I gladly would have chained you to each of these pillars and let you experience each death. But you only have one life. What was it Shakespeare said? Cowards die many times before their deaths, the valiant never taste of death but once. I will see you die a thousand times before I will allow your final death to come.”

I unchained him from the death machine. His eyelids fluttered for several moments and I thought he was going to collapse, but he struggled to regain his composure and he remained standing on his feet. Without a word to me he turned and headed toward the stone steps. While his legs appeared unsteady, he did not fall, and I followed behind him. As he walked through the castle toward the main gate, he paused as if he desired to ask me a question. I knew what that question would be—Where had I hidden his collection of occult books—for I heard him earlier when he was searching through his hidden cabinet. He wisely decided against asking me this question and continued to the gate. I was tempted to volunteer the information that I had burned his prized collection and that they were now only ashes, but decided that his not knowing so would create more inner turmoil. Of course, if I had told him this I would not have mentioned the page that I had torn from the most insidious of his collection. Once Frankenstein stepped outside, he attempted to muster some dignity as he turned to me.

He cleared his throat, and with his body stiff and his expression set in a stern fashion, said, “Let this end now. No good can come of this hatred laying waste to you. Let us both imagine that we have woken up from an evil dream and try from this moment to live in peace.”

I had never hated him more than I did at that moment. The two of us to live in peace? After what he had stolen from me? After cruelly murdering the woman that I had loved more than life itself? And what had he lost? Nothing more than the ability to create evil! And he dared speak these words to me as if he were leaving me as something other than an abomination to mankind!

I trembled as I stood staring at him, and once again a red haze nearly blinded me to him as my rage boiled and blistered within my soul. But it could not end this quickly. He needed to suffer many more deaths before I would finally squeeze his last breath from him. Somehow I managed to keep my hands at my sides, and while I did not answer him with words, I am sure he understood me from the raw emotion that flooded my eyes. He turned and walked away from me, and I followed him to his wagon, and continued to follow him as the donkeys pulled him down the path that wound around the cliff. I had too many plans to allow an injury to come to him now. Once the donkeys reached the bottom, I continued to follow Frankenstein and watched as he took the open single-horse drawn carriage from the stable held below. While I would have preferred him to suffer the indignity of having to return to his home by a donkey wagon, I needed him safe, and for that reason I allowed him to take the carriage. As he rode across the glacier, I stood and watched until he disappeared from sight. After that I returned to the castle, for this was going to be my home until I completed my vengeance against Frankenstein.

CHAPTER

29

Over the months that followed, I spent part of my time at the castle and the rest of it spying on Frankenstein. Occasionally I would let him see me—usually when his mood had lightened so that I could remind him of what was waiting for him. When these moments would occur he would pale, and any semblance of good humor would disappear from his face. Most of the time I would remain hidden from him, but when I absolutely needed to I would show myself to him, for I could not stomach seeing him happy for too long.

During these months Frankenstein lived at his father’s home on the banks of Lake Geneva, and it would take me two days of hard traveling over the glaciers and mountains to reach this place. While I hated to give up my spying on him, at times I would have no choice. If I spent too long watching over him the hatred within me would become so fierce that I knew if I did not leave I would be unable to keep myself from murdering him, and I was not ready for that yet. When these overpowering feelings would come over me I would force myself to quit Geneva and to return back to the castle. Once there I would drink enough wine over several days to deaden these impulses. And only then would I dare to return back to my enemy.

While I had turned much of Frankenstein’s castle into rubble, I did leave certain things undamaged. The wine cellar. The food pantry. The massive armchair that Frankenstein had constructed specifically for me. Most important, a hidden laboratory that I discovered deep within the bowels of the castle. This laboratory was reached from the dungeon by a secret passageway, the door to which was very cleverly concealed and that I had only serendipitously discovered.

This laboratory was as well-stocked as any apothecary’s, and held the compounds that I needed. I used these to make a solution which, when applied to a handkerchief and then later pressed over a victim’s nose, would cause the victim to fall into a deep slumber.

Each night that I was in Geneva, I would wait until my enemy was asleep and then I would scale the northern wall of his father’s house so that I could slip into Frankenstein’s room unseen. While he lay asleep I would apply my specially made compound to a handkerchief and then press it against my enemy’s face. Sometimes he would wake briefly, but then his eyes would quickly drift closed, and he would fall into a deep sleep that nothing would be able to wake him from for several hours. Whether he remembered these intrusions, I could not say. I would like to think so, for that would certainly have caused a greater trepidation within his spirit the next morning. These moments were so brief that most likely if he did remember anything, he thought of them only as fragments of a troubled sleep. While he then lay unconscious, I would light a candle and take from my cape the page that I had torn from his insidious book of the occult, the one that had been wrapped with human skin, and I would chant the spell on the page over and over again. While this spell was not the same as the one he had cast over me, and would not make him my obedient slave, it would suit my purposes for when the time was right.

During the months that I observed Frankenstein he would engage in normal activities and attempt to fit in with the other people around him, all of whom appeared to be decent and kindhearted folk. This was an act on Frankenstein’s part. To my eyes there was no disguising the evil that lurked inside of him. What others would confuse as a quiet and somber countenance, I knew to be defeat and cowardice. I had ruined his plans to commit further atrocities, and all that was left for him was to play this part and try to pretend that he belonged with other decent people. So he hid his true proclivities and acted as a chameleon with those around him. Most likely he was trying to fool himself as much as anyone else.

It was clear that Elizabeth Lavenza was in love with him. I could see it in the way she would look at him and how she would blush when he would hold her hand. Why she could not see him for what he was, I could not say, but he fooled all the others also. In his emaciated state and having gone through what they believed to be an appalling ordeal of having his childhood friend murdered and himself falsely accused of the crime, they looked upon him as if he were a wounded bird that needed to be brought back to health. When I would see them act this way my blood would boil, and I would be sorely tempted to quit my hiding and rush to them so that I could explain his true nature and the crimes that he had committed and the further evil that I had prevented. But I knew it would do no good, and besides, doing so would go against my plans. Still, it would rankle me to witness this, especially watching Elizabeth Lavenza act in this fashion, for she otherwise appeared to be an intelligent and generous woman.

I was not surprised when Frankenstein announced his engagement to Elizabeth, although I was actually surprised in the way he acted with her; for he doted on her and showed her only gentleness, and it mostly seemed sincere. For a long time I wondered about this, for I knew he was incapable of truly loving her, or anyone except himself. Eventually I understood his behavior. He needed to convince himself that he loved her. As long as he could grasp what she offered him, he would be able to fit in with society and pretend that he was like everyone else. What she was really offering him was a chance of normality, or at least the facade of normality.

I waited until a week before Frankenstein’s impending marriage to surprise him while he strolled alone in the woods nearby his father’s house. At first he nearly fell over from fright, but as I walked alongside him so that there was only a foot’s distance between us, he tried to act as if I wasn’t there.

“I hope you have not forgotten about me,” I said.

“I have not,” he answered, his voice barely a whisper.

“Good, good, for I have not forgotten you. I would congratulate you on your upcoming wedding, except it will not be a pleasant day for you. I should correct myself. The day itself might be pleasant, I cannot say, but your wedding night will certainly not be.”

He tried looking at me but could not force himself to do so. I had stripped myself of my cape for this meeting, for I wanted him to remember clearly what he had turned me into. We continued walking together and Frankenstein after some time attempted to clear his throat so that he could talk.

“I am a changed man,” he said at last, his voice sounding strangled. “Before, it was as if I was under a dark spell, but that spell has been broken. I beg your forgiveness and I offer my sincerest apologies for what I have done, and I promise you that I will live out the rest of my life performing acts of contrition.”

I laughed at that. “In the months that I have watched you I have yet to see you perform a single act of contrition,” I said. “But even if you are sincere in what you are telling me, do you think an apology is appropriate for the crimes that you have committed? My murder, Johanna’s, Charlotte’s, as well as all the kidnappings?”

We walked for several hundred more yards before he asked in that same strangled voice, “What would you have me do?”

“You could travel back to Ingolstadt and confess your crimes and let yourself be broken upon the wheel as I was.”

The little color he had left bled out from his complexion. “They would think me a madman if I did that and they would only lock me up in an asylum,” he said.

“Possibly. Still, it would be something. Or you could instead write out your confession and hang yourself by your own hand. It would be a cowardly way to end it, but at least a modicum of justice would be served.”

He thought on that before shaking his head. “I could not do that. I could not hurt Elizabeth in that way.”

He turned to glance at me, but I had already left his side so that I could spy on him from a distance. He stood startled with the same dazed expression upon his face that you would see on a deer that had been surprised by a hunter. He turned slowly around to search for me, and on realizing that I was gone, he continued with his walk, his gait now slower and more unnatural. As I watched him, I wondered why I had made those suggestions, for if he followed either of them they would rob me of my vengeance. I decided it was because I knew he would be incapable of showing the necessary courage to do either of what I had suggested, for he was not in any way the changed man that he proclaimed himself to be.

CHAPTER

30

From a distance I witnessed Frankenstein’s wedding ceremony, and later spied on their celebration. I watched as he armed himself with a pistol and a dagger, and later as he and his bride boarded a boat on Lake Geneva. Did he really believe he could escape me by water? Had he already forgotten how I had been constructed? While the boat moved faster than any man, I had little problem in racing along the shores of the lake so that I could follow it. I was there to watch them when they departed the boat to spend their wedding night in a home in the resort town of Évian. I spied on them as they walked hand in hand along the shore, and then as they sat together. When Frankenstein’s bride entered the house by herself, I stole along the outer walls so that I could go through her bedroom window and surprise her. I did this so quietly that at first she did not hear me. When she at last noticed me she opened her mouth to scream but was too frightened to do so.

“I am not here to harm you,” I said, “but to convince you to abandon the fiend whom you have married.”

She stared dumbly at me as if she could not understand what I was saying. I felt pity for her, but I needed her to leave Frankenstein on his wedding night. I knew it would strike a fatal blow that would send him reeling. Just as Henriette could have once been an anchor for me in keeping my thirst for vengeance in check, this woman seemed to be a similar anchor for Frankenstein; she was the only thing holding him to his false hope that he could live a normal life. If she was gone he would be set adrift. His last few months would be spent in utter turmoil.

“When Victor Frankenstein resided in Ingolstadt as a medical student, he had me and others murdered, and he later created me in this monstrous form.”

She shook her head, my words finally making sense to her. “No,” she insisted. “You are lying!”

“I am not lying. My name used to be Friedrich Hoffmann, my betrothed’s name was Johanna Klemmen. He had both of us murdered.”

I had saved several of Frankenstein’s illustrations for this purpose, and I handed them to her. Her mouth gaped open as she looked at them and understood what they portrayed.

“These are Frankenstein’s,” I said. “He arranged for almost two hundred young women and children to be kidnapped, and these are just a few of the acts that he was going to have performed on these innocents. I have since saved them, but it is what your new husband was going to do. This is the monster that you married, and you must leave him now. I will help you.”

I reached out to touch her arm, and she turned on me as a cornered animal might, throwing the papers in my face.

“You are the fiend!” she cried. “You are the monster! And you are not worthy of speaking my husband’s name!”

If she had said anything other than that, I would have carried her away if necessary so that I could show her more evidence of her husband’s crimes and convince her of his evil, but those words blinded me. I was lost within them and the rage that they stirred up within me. When reason came back to me she was dead by my hands. It had happened in the briefest of moments, but I had throttled her and left her sprawled dead on the canopy bed. I was still struggling to understand what I had done when Frankenstein swung the bedroom door open and raced into the room. He looked first at his bride and understood by the dark purple marks along her neck what had happened. Then he turned toward me, enraged.

“Now you know how it feels,” I said.

He began fumbling for his pistol, but before he could have it pointed at me I was already out of the window and racing away. It was too early still to take my final revenge on him, and I was reeling from what I had done to his bride. Even with what she had said to me, she was an innocent and did not deserve what I did, and there was nothing that I could think of that could justify my action. All I could feel was an empty hollowness in the pit of my stomach. But I tried not to think of it, and instead only imagined how I had injured my enemy, and what would be happening next.

I allowed Frankenstein to bury his bride before I acted on the rest of my plan. The spell that I had spent months rendering upon him would draw him to me when I desired, and my plan was to bring him to the most desolate spot on the planet so that he could die alone and so that his body would never be found by man. I had been planning this for many months. More than just planning. Ever since I learned of his release from that Irish prison, this was all I had been able to think of. Now that I was finally acting on my plans, all I felt was emptiness, and whenever I would try to imagine my Johanna to comfort me, I would instead be haunted by the image of Frankenstein’s bride dead by my own hands. But my following through with my plans was all I could think of, so I led Frankenstein back toward his castle. Many times I would stop and wait for him to catch up to within a mile of me before I would continue. When I reached the castle, I headed north, and used the spell to keep drawing Frankenstein after me.

This journey continued for many months as we passed through deserts and glaciers. I still had gold and jewels on my person, and at one of the remote villages I encountered, I traded some of these for fur clothing, supplies, a dog team, and a sled. Perhaps the people I traded with had never seen a European before and assumed that I was typical of other Europeans, for they showed no alarm at my sight. While the cold did not bother me, at least not in the way it did when I was Friedrich Hoffmann, I rid myself of my cape and used then only the furs that I had acquired. After leaving this village, I traveled for several hours before stopping to wait again for Frankenstein. When he appeared on the horizon I saw that he had also acquired a sled and a team of dogs.

I kept heading north, for I would take us to the North Pole itself if I had to to see my enemy drop. It was then that I passed a most peculiar thing. A ship stuck in a sea of ice. At first I wondered why anyone would attempt such a foolish trip, and then whether everyone on board had perished. This second question was answered when I saw activity on deck. I decided whatever their reason for being out in this icy wilderness was their own, and I continued on a short distance so that I could be hidden from the ship but still watch for Frankenstein. A day passed as I waited, and it was only then that I spotted Frankenstein’s sled. The ice had broken where he was, and he had been set adrift. His dogs were gone and he lay seemingly unconscious on his sled. I watched as men from the ship rescued him.

I could not believe this had happened. If Frankenstein had expired on that piece of ice I could have been satisfied with my revenge, but now I did not know whether he was dead, or whether they would be restoring him back to health. For days I worried about this, and resisted the urge to steal aboard the ship to check on my enemy. If he survived I would later draw him back to me, and if he died I had to believe that I would somehow know this. So as difficult as it was, as much as the unknowing gnawed at my soul, I settled in to keep watch over this ship.

These were torturous days; the sun ever present in the sky, almost as if to mock me and not even allow me a moment of darkness so that I could attempt to sleep and escape the thoughts that were nagging at me. The journey had taken longer than I had expected, especially now with my enemy aboard this icebound ship, and I hadn’t brought enough food for my team of dogs. I tried setting them free, hoping that they could find something to hunt in this wilderness, but they were too exhausted from my pushing them these many days and I had to watch as they withered and died around me, adding more blood to my hands.

I do not know how many days I kept vigil on this ship, for it was impossible to tell with the sun always in the sky, but I knew it was many, possibly several months. At one point the sea ice broke up enough to open a passage of escape for this ship, but it stubbornly remained where it was. It was perhaps two days after this had happened that I felt a shift inside of me and I knew that my enemy was dead. I had no choice now; I had to steal aboard this ship so that I could bear witness to his lifeless form. I did this carefully, and was undetected as I snuck aboard and crept below to the captain’s quarters, where somehow I knew Frankenstein lay.

He was dead, as I had known he was. As I looked upon his corpse all I felt was hollow inside, for I had achieved little with my vengeance other than allowing it to consume me and twist me into something as malignant as my enemy. I remembered Brother Theodore’s words when I had left his monastery; how he was afraid that my thirst for vengeance would lead to my ruin. He was right. Now that my enemy was dead I could see clearly what I had done. With my murder of an innocent woman I had doomed myself and had lost Johanna forever. I understood also why I had approached Frankenstein a week before his wedding. It wasn’t to taunt him. At a subconscious level I must have been hoping that he would act on one of the suggestions I made; I must have known that otherwise I would ruin myself. He was an evil man and he deserved his death, but not by my hands and not at my ultimate cost.

It was as I was staring at Frankenstein when the door to the cabin opened and the man who must have been the captain of the ship entered. I forced myself to look away from my enemy so I could meet this man’s eyes. In all of my contempt and hatred for what I had allowed myself to lose for this villain’s death, I forced out in a harsh whisper, “This is my victim. In his murder my crimes are now consummated.”

The look this captain gave me was one of utter revulsion. I could only imagine then the lies that Frankenstein had told this man during his months aboard his ship. With my voice strangled I said that I would leave him alone with this most worthy creature, and with that I escaped through the cabin window, landing on an ice floe that took me swiftly away from the boat.

CHAPTER

31

The ice floe carried me for many miles. I thought that I would perish aboard it, and looked forward to that fate, but eventually it brought me to a barren landscape of ice and snow. I traveled south for many days and did not die as I expected and hoped for. Instead I reached a remote village, where I was able to trade the last of my gold for supplies, animal hides, and tools. I did not bother with acquiring another sled and dog team, for where I was going I wished to be alone without even the company of animals. I loaded all of my purchases on my back and trekked until I found an isolated area by a lake, and there I set about bringing down trees and building myself a small cabin. Once this was built I decided this would be where I would wait out my final days far away from other men. The lake had fish I could catch, and there were berries and nuts and mushrooms in the woods nearby to further sustain me.

I had not slept for months, at least not more than a few minutes at a time when I would drift into unconsciousness while I kept my vigil over that ship, and even before then, I had slept little while burning for my vengeance over Frankenstein. That first night after I finished constructing my cabin I slept fully and deeply, and had no dreams.

As the days passed, whether I slept or not I would spend the nights laying on my bed of animal hides, and as dawn approached I would leave my cabin and perform my daily chores, which amounted to gathering firewood and nourishment, although some days I would take on projects, such as constructing crude furnishings for my cabin. Once my chores were completed I would sit by the lake and pray for forgiveness for the murder I had committed and for my betrayal of Johanna.

Years passed as I lived this way and waited for death, but death’s release seemed to escape me. I did not age, nor did I get sick. During this time I was not once able to dream of Johanna. While my dreams were generally serene, I prayed that she would visit me once more, but this never happened. When I would remember that one dream I had had of her when I was held within Frankenstein’s castle, I would remember how she told me that she was afraid that she would lose me, and tears would come to my eyes. Not over my own loss, but of how I had abandoned her.

I do not know how many years had passed when my peace was invaded by a foreign and unpleasant noise that made me think of how rampaging elephants might sound. I sought out the source of this noise, moving swiftly from my cabin and through the woods nearby. The scene that I came across sickened me. Dozens of women and children stood huddled with a few old men among them. They were close to what I knew were vehicles, except they were too large and had no horses to pull them. I would later learn they were motorized transport machines and were the source of the noise that had disturbed me. What sickened me was the sight of the soldiers. Their uniforms had a special malignancy about them, and they were setting up what I knew were weapons, although they were of a sort that I would never have imagined. They were there to slaughter defenseless victims. Women and children and old men! When I heard them speaking my native German I was outraged! Was this what my fellow countrymen had degenerated into, to commit such horrific atrocities?

I broke a heavy branch from a tree and threw it with all my might at them, knocking down two of them, perhaps even killing them. The third of them turned his weapon toward me and it spat out metal that ripped my flesh and bit cruelly into me. This injured me greatly, but in my rage I still had enough strength to rip down another branch and throw it at him, and saw that the blow crushed his skull.

The ones who were going to be massacred were now safe. I had little strength remaining in me. I turned and struggled to make it back to my cabin so that I could die in peace. I wondered if that was what had kept me alive for all these years, to save these people as a way to help atone for my crimes. I collapsed on the ground a mile from my cabin and crawled the rest of the way, but I did not die. Over time my injuries healed. Death still would not come to me.

Through the years, my solitude was to be more frequently invaded by what I knew were man-made objects passing through the sky that made a similar unpleasant rumbling noise to those motorized vehicles. I would later learn that these were airplanes, but for a long time I could not fathom what their nature was.

I do not how many years had passed when my longing to visit Johanna’s grave became something I could no longer ignore, no matter how unworthy I felt to do so, and I set out to travel back to Leipzig. For many miles I was able to travel through undisturbed woods. From the little I had already witnessed, I knew the world had changed, but I could not possibly be prepared for what I saw when I entered the new world of man. It was staggering, as I looked upon the size and construction of new buildings and how vehicles flew by at unimaginable speeds and how man now lighted his cities to make nighttime little different than day. It was difficult navigating through these cities unobserved and I tried to avoid other people, but it was not always possible. Still, I reached Leipzig, and while much of the city had changed, the church where Johanna was buried still stood and her grave remained undisturbed, although her grave marker was so badly worn that it was difficult to make out her name upon it, even with the full moon brightening the night sky. But while I could not read her name I could still feel the engraved letters. Even without that, I would have known that this was where she was.

I had brought an armful of wildflowers and I placed these on her grave, then fell to my knees weeping. I begged her forgiveness. “I am so sorry, my beloved,” I cried. “God had tested me greatly, but I failed and I ruined my path to you. Perhaps someday I will be able to cleanse my soul enough where the path will once more be opened to me.”

It was hours before I had the strength to leave Johanna’s grave. As I stole though the city a sight stopped me in my tracks. Staring at me through a bookstore window was my enemy’s name. Frankenstein! I had to retrieve this book, and I broke into this store to do so, and also took several books that would explain to me how greatly the world had changed since my exile.

After leaving the store, I found a lighted place where I could read in solitude, and my hands trembled as I read the lies that Frankenstein recounted to Captain Walton during his last remaining months aboard the icebound ship. I understood the reason for this; my enemy knew he was dying and he sought to protect his reputation, regardless of how soiled it truly was. But he also sought with these lies to injure me. He must have had that motive given the crimes that he attributed to me, the only one of which I was guilty being the murder of his innocent bride. Captain Walton for the most part accurately recounted my words to him, but he misunderstood my reason for them, and he greatly embellished what I had said. Maybe in his fear he believed we had had this more dramatic conversation as was recounted in the book. Perhaps Frankenstein’s lies were so deeply embedded within his mind that he could not imagine the conversation being anything other than what he wrote.

As I read this book to completion I marveled at Frankenstein’s cunning and deception, even during his last moments. If I were to believe Walton’s words, which I have no reason not to, then Frankenstein even went as far as to forge letters from an imaginary Felix and Safie to support his outrageous story! And he must have done this before I had sent him chasing after me!

I threw the book in the gutter after finishing it, and as I began my travel back to my remote home, I realized I needed to tell the true story of Frankenstein to counter his lies. I turned back to the center of Leipzig to steal steal paper and writing instruments, and then began my long journey back to my cabin.

During my travel I forced myself to remember all of it. Most of it I had long forgotten or tried to forget, but as I concentrated to recall these events they crystallized in my mind as if they had only just happened, and I was amazed and sickened. I had gone through what no man could have ever imagined, and while at times I had saved the lives of innocents, I had also committed grave evil. I did not blame myself for the helpful push that had sent the devil worshippers and Frankenstein’s guests to their deaths, but there was no justification for my murder of Elizabeth, nor of how I had allowed my obsession with vengeance to twist me into the same abomination as Frankenstein.

When I returned to my cabin, I took pen to paper with every intention of exposing the truth, even if it exposed myself in the process. I believe my crimes are severe enough to keep me forever from Johanna, but perhaps one day I will be judged differently. At least I can pray that God will take pity on me and my failings.