by Cindy Winget
“Even if I were to build a woman for you, you would still be unique,” Victor pointed out. “I stole the bones of Vlad Tepes to form you, as you know from my notes, and it is for this very reason that you have abilities beyond what is normal for man and must subsist upon blood. So, you see, even if I were to create for you a female, you would still be the only creature like yourself. She may or may not be more susceptible to the cold than you and therefore unable to follow where you lead. She would not, presumably, live as long as you would and what would happen then? Would you not then quit your life of exile that you had previously led with the female and wander back down to the world of men?”
“I give you my word that I won’t, for I would be content to live out a life of solitude after having felt the touch of affection. We would travel as far as she was able. I am confident that we could travel an acceptable distance away and no longer become a threat to mankind. So long as she is similar to me in all other aspects, I will be content. For if she were still large and hideous to behold, no man would be tempted to spend his days with her, and she would therefore come with me willingly.”
Victor was not so certain of this. What would Dracula do if he built for him a woman and she did not want to be his wife? What if she was just as repulsed by Dracula’s appearance as everyone else? What if she were afraid of his powers and need for blood? Would that not make Dracula’s rage and penchant for violence return full force? Victor had no reason to trust him, considering the inclination to murder he has shown thus far. He wondered if even now Dracula’s argument was only a feint to get Victor to create another creature to help him in his revenge.
However, Victor reluctantly agreed, feeling as though he owed Dracula some semblance of happiness as his creator. Besides that, this was the surest means he knew of to stave off more harm directed at his loved ones.
“Thank you, Doctor Frankenstein. You shall not regret this. I will visit you from time to time to see your progress, but otherwise I shall stay away from the world of men, as promised.”
Victor sincerely hoped that he would not rue the day that he created a second monster. But, at present, it was his best option in foiling Dracula’s wrathful intentions. He had never been called Doctor Frankenstein before. He rather liked it, though it seemed a bitter pill to swallow coming from the lips of his foe.
Victor suddenly realized that Dracula’s lips were still a deep red. The only explanation he could come up with for this phenomenon was that when Dracula fed upon blood, the stolen blood was then transferred to the creature, giving his formerly thin lips a plumpness. Like a mosquito or leech, fat with the blood it had just fed upon. He had a morbid thought that if he were to stick his hand out and squeeze the offending lips, they would burst open, spilling blood upon the snowy peak. With horror he wondered if this rosy complexion was caused by the very life blood of his brother.
Dracula, perhaps noticing Victor’s sudden uneasiness, wisely turned and started away, giving Victor no time to go back on his word.
It had taken hours for Dracula to relate to Victor his tale and he knew that he should hasten home, for darkness would soon be upon him. But in his melancholy, he couldn’t bring himself to travel very fast. As the light faded, he had to slow even further in order to steer clear of obstacles in his path or to be sure not to plummet off the side of some unseen cliff. He barely noticed the cold that caused him to shiver, forcing him to fold his arms across his chest in search of what little warmth it brought.
He was deep in thought. Would he truly go along with Dracula’s demand? To his consternation he had already begun planning how he would accomplish the task in his mind. Where should he set up his lab? How soon should he begin gathering materials? Should he make her the exact height of Dracula or a bit smaller in stature, as a true couple would be?
He stumbled a time or two in the dark that now surrounded him and made it back just as a frantic Elizabeth exited the cottage.
“Victor! Where-ever have you been?” she asked.
“Out for a walk to clear my head.”
“Why didn’t you tell us where you had gone?” She glared at him, then continued in a severe tone, “Your father has been sick with worry. The things you put upon the shoulders of that dear old man!”
Shame stabbed Victor as sharply as any knife. “I am sorry, darling. I did not mean to cause any undue stress upon him. Or you, for that matter. I hiked up Mount Montanvert and had not anticipated it taking as long as it did. It became slow going once I lost the light.”
Elizabeth threw her arms around him. “I am just glad you are back and safe. I was worried that, in light of recent events, you had perhaps meant to end it all.” She drew back, her face flushing crimson as she realized what she had confessed. Apparently, this was a concern she had not meant to divulge to him.
Victor was ashamed to think that there was a time in his not so distant past that he had, in fact, contemplated self-murder. He would never add to her anxiety, or anyone’s, by vocalizing his moment of weakness and despair. Instead he wrapped his arm around her slender waist and pulled her near. How he had longed to do so for so long!
“My dear Elizabeth, let your heart be not troubled. I could no sooner leave you than stop the sun from coming up each day.”
Elizabeth’s eyes filled with sudden tears.
“What is it?”
“Do you truly feel this way?”
Victor was confused. “Of course I do. You know I do.”
She was shaking her head. “No, I don’t know. I only hoped. But you never say anything to convey your feelings for me. I was scared that when you went abroad, you would come home changed, and that your feelings towards me would be equally changed. You would be so much more intelligent and sophisticated and will have seen the ways of the world, and I would not measure up to the exotic girls of these far-off places I have only read about in story books. Perhaps you would come to find that you had little use for me, the girlhood friend of your youth. Perhaps you had outgrown me.” The tears were falling in earnest now.
Victor was flabbergasted. Where was this coming from? He had always known that they would live out their lives together. There had been no question. He had never wanted anyone else, had not even glanced at any other girls. He had been far too preoccupied with his work. He could have told her all this, he supposed, but he didn’t. Instead he wanted her to know that he had not changed. He was still the same old Victor.
“More intelligent and sophisticated you say? Hmmm…I hadn’t thought about it, but now that you mention it, perhaps I have outgrown you.”
She was laughing now, wiping at her face. She playfully swatted him on the arm. “Apparently I was mistaken! You are a rogue and a rake and perhaps it is I who have outgrown you!”
Victor was gratified to note that although Elizabeth had grown more womanly in his absence, she still retained her innocence and the childlike freckles still adorned her nose and cheeks. He hoped they would never fade. Her nose wrinkled slightly as she smiled up at him, and he was suddenly reminded of the terrible dream he had had the night that Dracula ascended into being. Her sweet features slack in death, marred by worms and maggots.
“Victor, what is it? You look as though you have seen a ghost.”
“Nothing.” He forced a smile. “I was just contemplating the shape of your lips.” He winked.
“You really are a rascal!”
He gathered her up in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. It was only the third kiss they had ever shared, and it was exquisite, sweeter and yet more sensual than he had anticipated. When she finally pulled away, he said, “Elizabeth, believe me when I say that I never wanted, nor ever will want, another woman to be my wife other than you.”
She blushed prettily, and in that moment Victor knew that if he had not already agreed to create a bride for Dracula, he would have changed his mind right at that moment. Dracula was right. Every man deserved to be loved by a good woman.
*****
As soon as the
family returned to Geneva from their holiday, Victor set up his laboratory not far from his father’s estate. He spent weeks gathering the necessary materials and making sure he had all his equipment in fine working order.
Late one night, after a long dinner accompanied by fake smiles and a lie that he was tired and wanted to retire to his bed early, Victor began his secret work on the hideous female. Gone was the zeal and excitement that he felt upon beginning his previous work of creation, for although in some ways he understood Dracula’s position, he was still loath to create another person without knowing the ramifications. Dracula himself had admitted that he may not have a soul. Knowing how things had turned out last time, how could Victor possibly go through with it? But he persevered for the sake of his family, and yes, for the sake of his dreaded creation as well.
He didn’t stop working until his eyes itched with exhaustion and his hands ached with meticulous and repetitive use. He wiped his hands clean on his white cotton apron, untied it from around his waist and hung it upon a wooden peg by the door. The gas lanterns that lit the room glinted off the many glass jars filled with organs, preserved in alcohol. A movement caught his eye in the window. He saw only a fleeting shadow, gone so quickly he couldn’t be sure it had actually been anything at all. His intuition told him that it was Dracula, observing him, ensuring that he was keeping his end of the bargain.
Victor extinguished the lights and walked home by the light of the moon, his figure making eerie shadows upon the dirt road. He hastened his pace, taking longer strides in his hurry to be tucked away, safe and warm, in his bed. The sounds of crickets stopped abruptly at the appearance of a bat, flitting away into the night.
Victor, his heart suddenly pounding, as though sensing some unknown threat, made it inside his home and crept up the stairs to his room, hoping with every squeak of the floorboards not to awaken his family.
The next morning, at breakfast, Victor could only stomach hot black coffee. The bitter strong taste woke him up after a sleepless night.
“Is that all you are having?” asked an incredulous Ernest, who had just finished his third scone and was starting in on the bratwursts.
“Did you sleep all right, son?” asked Alphonse.
“Of course, father. Why do you ask?”
Alphonse stared at him for several seconds. “I can tell when someone hasn’t been sleeping. Take a peek in the looking glass at those dark circles under your eyes and try and tell me you have been sleeping properly.”
Victor chuckled, and then stifled a yawn. “Nothing gets past you, Father.”
“Doesn’t help that you have been sneaking out at night and not coming back until odd hours of the night,” added Ernest.
Victor’s eyes widened. He thought he had been careful and gone successfully unnoticed.
“What’s this?” said Alphonse.
“It’s nothing, Father. A school project.”
“You are no longer enrolled at the university.”
Victor tried to backtrack. “You are right, but a professor of mine, Abraham Van Helsing, has asked me to conduct an experiment on his behalf, as he has little time between lectures to conduct it himself.”
“Why must it be conducted at night?”
“That is all part of the project. Something to do with the phases of the moon and some such. I’m really not supposed to say anything about it until his theory can either be positively proven or else disproved.”
“Well, I don’t like you not getting enough rest, Victor.”
“I will strive to get more sleep, I promise. It won’t be too much longer before the experiment is over,” he lied, knowing that it would take the better part of a year or even eighteen months before he would complete this particular project.
At that moment, Elizabeth entered the room. She held a piece of paper in her hands. Walking over to the dining room window, she pulled up the glass pane, letting a breeze in to flutter the curtains. “That’s better, it’s stuffy in here. It looks a bit foggy outside, maybe it will rain some more today. Victor, you have a missive from a Doctor Jack Seward.” She handed him the manila envelope.
Victor carefully broke the wax seal and opened it.
Victor,
Hope all is well with you and yours. I am writing to invite you to stay at our home at Whitby once more. Did you notice the use of “our” home? Lucy and I have recently been married, and we had rather hoped that you would come and help us celebrate this rather auspicious time. I would have invited you to the wedding, old chap, but Lucy insisted that she wanted only family. I know that, traditionally, Lucy should have moved in with me at my abode in Leeds, but I know that she is loath to leave her childhood home. She dearly loves the place, and I am unwilling to make her sorrowful in any way.
Jonathan will be here as well, and I know that he would be thrilled to have another gentleman to talk to rather than the likes of me. He says that as insufferable as I was as a bachelor, I am even more so as a blushing groom! Can you believe the nerve of such a cur?
In any case, I invite your Elizabeth to accompany you. Perhaps you can coerce your friend, Henry Clerval, to come with you as well, for I would love to speak with him some more about the antics you have gotten into together.
Hoping to see you at your earliest convenience.
Your friend,
Doctor Jack Seward
“That was kind of him to invite me,” Elizabeth said upon Victor telling her the good news and that she had been invited to travel to Whitby with him. Her face flushed with pleasure and her eyes danced with anticipation the way they did when she and Victor were children and about to embark on one of their adventures. “So, when do we leave?”
Victor was at a loss for what to say. He very much wanted to visit his friends, Jack Seward and Jonathan Harker, but he couldn’t leave his work for that long. If he left now, what would Dracula have to say about it?
Before he could answer, Alphonse asked, “Are these the two English chaps you met at school?”
“Yes, they are,” Victor confirmed. “Nice word choice, Father.”
Alphonse smiled in evident merriment.
Since his return from Transylvania, Victor had been regaling his family with tales of his life for the past six years and used as many English terms as he could, to the amusement of Ernest and Henry. Even Elizabeth cracked a smile whenever he used the phrase, jolly good!
He was surprised by his father’s attempt at humor. Victor was afraid that his father would never truly be happy after the loss of sweet little William, who was said to have been so much like Alphonse’s late wife in temperament.
Although his family loved to hear stories of Ingolstadt and King’s College, they now knew better than to mention Victor’s stay in Romania. He would grow pensive and quiet and say little about his time there, as it led to painful memories. He hoped to never divulge the secret of Dracula to his family. He would build Dracula his bride and then that would be the end of it. Dracula would keep his promise and slink off into some unknown part of the world, never to be seen by human eyes again.
“Tell us another story!” Ernest insisted.
“You have heard them all already,” Victor said.
“Well then tell us again about Lucy and all her beaus,” Ernest said. He had developed a bit of a boyhood crush on Lucy after hearing stories of her beauty and sweetness from Victor.
“She is a married woman now, you know,” Elizabeth pointed out.
“I know,” Ernest muttered, “doesn’t mean we can’t talk about her anymore, does it? I know what you are thinking, Elizabeth, but she is much too old for me anyhow.” Although his words were true, Victor noticed that Ernest’s ears were noticeably red.
“She is even prettier than my descriptions of her, you know,” Victor needled. “Her hair, a color that would shame the sun, full red lips, and a peaches and cream complexion that gives her fair face the look of a porcelain doll. Many a man has tried to woo her, but none could tame her coquettish ways until Jack Sewar
d came along. Likely because he has a more comprehensive grasp of the human psyche with his background in psychiatry.”
Alphonse gave a cough, glancing in Elizabeth’s direction, whose face had gone splotchy and her eyes hard. How could Victor have been so careless! He had only meant to tease Ernest a bit. He hastily added, “I am happy for Jack, but Lucy would never be my type of woman.”
Elizabeth glared at him. “Don’t think for a second that I don’t know what you are doing.”
“What? What am I doing?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes at him. His brother was laughing in earnest now, seeing Victor trying to worm his way out of trouble.
“It’s the truth,” insisted Victor. “She is too indecisive. Never truly satisfied. A man would spend his whole life trying, and likely failing, to make her happy. I never saw the appeal of having to chase a woman. The things that poor Arthur, Quincy, and Jack had to go through just to be near her! I would never humiliate myself in such a manner.”
To his consternation, this only seemed to make Elizabeth more upset. Her cheeks were scarlet and her eyes stared daggers at him. “You think that because I didn’t make you chase me, that I am not worthy of your humiliation, Mister Frankenstein?”
Victor knew he was in trouble the minute he heard Elizabeth call him Mister Frankenstein. He could count on one hand the amount of times she had called him that, and all had been when she was cross with him.
“Why should you need to see me prostrate myself at your feet like some common mongrel, begging for your affection? I have my pride, just as much as anybody.”
Ernest had stopped laughing; he averted his eyes as the conversation grew more heated.
