by Cindy Winget
“Too much pride, some would say,” Elizabeth growled.
“Besides, we knew from our infancy that we would one day wed. I had no reason to court you.”
“That isn’t the point. Just because we knew our entire lives that it was our parent’s wish to see that we married one day, did not in the slightest guarantee that I would have you!”
“You are right, Elizabeth. You do deserve to be wooed and courted. I apologize. I meant that for Lucy, I would never humiliate myself, but for you, my dear, I would humiliate myself to the point of being kicked out of the polite circles of society.”
Elizabeth was clearly shocked by this concession. Without a word, she stared at Victor’s face, trying to gauge his sincerity. Finally, she smiled slyly. “Watch yourself, Mister Frankenstein. Perhaps one day I shall require you to prove that sentiment.”
Alphonse chuckled. “Our Elizabeth sure has some fire in her veins. Hope you can handle her, Victor.”
Elizabeth smiled, rather liking that description of herself. She leaned down and kissed the older man on the cheek.
“Well, I am must go. I have much work to attend to. Don’t wait up for me,” Victor declared.
Chapter Seventeen
Victor straightened, stretching his back with a groan. He had been hunched over his work for hours and it was beginning to take its toll on his muscles. His stomach growled with hunger, and his eyes became wet and blurry with weariness.
He glanced at the clock and saw that he had missed lunch. It was nearly dinnertime already. One or two minor adjustments and he would call it a day.
His mind wandered as he worked. He often glanced at the face of his newest creation, wondering what this creature, this woman, would look like when her features became animated. Would she truly be as hideously grotesque as her counterpart, or would the very nature of the female form lend her face a softer, more pleasant countenance than Dracula’s, despite the scars?
What would the children of such a couple look like? he wondered idly. Would they still be soft and round-cheeked, their small faces looking at the world in wonder as their innocent and curious eyes took in everything? Would they play and jump as normal children did? Would they inherit their father’s peculiar abilities?
Victor stopped.
Children!
How could he have been so remiss as to not see that this was the inevitable outcome of a man and woman cohabitating together? Of course, sooner or later, Dracula and his new bride would surely want children. What was he to do?
Any children they had together would not be bound by the same oath that Dracula had sworn to Victor. What if they didn’t agree to the terms and conditions that had been placed upon their father? Children were naturally curious and there would come a time when they wanted to explore the world of men, and when they did, they would be met with fear and loathing.
He gazed down at the female form upon his operating table. Perhaps, he could build her without her reproductive organs. Surely they were not necessary for her survival. Victor would do some research into the matter and determine if such a thing were possible.
That is when a new thought occurred to him. Not only would Dracula’s offspring not be beholden to the same promises made by their father, but Dracula’s bride herself had not agreed to leave the world of man and live in isolation. What if the female, who presumably would become a thinking and reasoning animal under the tutelage of Dracula, would not remain in exile? Or refused outright? What recourse would Victor have then? Would he kill her? Keep her locked up for the rest of her days? Dracula would surely never agree to that.
He reflected on the damage two monsters could wreak on humanity, if at any time, they forgot the malice of men concerning them or think it safe to seek out the kindness of man. For if and when they did so, they would be met with only detestation which would rekindle Dracula’s hatred, for it would not only be him that would be the recipient of the cruelty of man, but his beloved wife as well.
Victor knew the awful sting that went with witnessing your loved ones in pain. He remembered well a time in his youth when he had stumbled upon a group of children bullying Elizabeth. She was lying prostrate in the dirt, likely having just been pushed by one of the other children. Tears coursed down her lovely cheeks as the children taunted her, calling her a bluestocking. In a fit of rage, Victor—followed closely by Henry—had charged at the children. He had cocked back his fist and sucker-punched the closest boy. Victor had felt the boy’s nose break with a satisfying crunch as blood poured forth from his nostrils.
The ever soft-hearted Elizabeth had stumbled to her feet and told Victor off for such a barbarian display of male aggression. She had kindly offered her handkerchief to the boy to wipe his nose with. He had glared at her with disdain and stalked off without a word, the other children following suit. Victor remembered with clarity the incredulous way he had looked at Elizabeth, admonishing her not to be such a ninny. Elizabeth’s eyes had filled with tears and she ran off, presumably to find Elena Frankenstein for comfort.
Victor would have gladly killed that boy that day for the hurt he had caused his cousin. How much more so would Dracula feel about those who would harm or humiliate his sole companion? Dracula had already proved his unscrupulous nature. He had no qualms about murdering. His appetite for human blood would come barreling to the surface and he would feed in a frenzy of insatiable lust, Victor had no doubt.
The more Victor thought about it, the more convinced he was that Dracula would not hold true to the promises he had made. Victor did not believe that once death and decay had taken his bride away from Dracula that he would be content to live out the rest of eternity alone.
And what of his own death? Dracula—presumably living forever—may think that with the passing away of his creator, the pact he made with him may now be considered null and void and he would be free to do as he wished with the rest of eternity.
Or what if they began to hate each other? What if the female abhorred Dracula and thought him ugly and sought out the beauty of man instead? In his rage of being deserted by a member of his own species, what damage would the demon inflict on mankind?
Victor had no way of determining her temperament until after she had been reanimated, and by that time, it would be too late. Victor would once again be responsible for a living, breathing person. What if she was more malicious than Dracula himself and loved murder and vice for its own sake? Could Victor, in good conscience, take the risk for the safety of his own person and relatives? Was he being selfish? Would he in essence be counting the lives of his loved ones as more worthy of life and happiness than those of strangers?
In a fit of fear and loathing, Victor destroyed the second monster. Just as he had finished tearing asunder what had taken months to put together, he heard a growl of despair and anger. He glanced up at the window in time to see the pale livid face of Dracula, his sharp teeth glinting in the light of the moon as his lips were pulled back in a snarl.
“You shall regret this, Victor Frankenstein!” Dracula spat before storming off into the night.
Victor’s heart was beating hard, both from exertion and fear of reprisal. What would Dracula do now? He had rather hoped to deceive Dracula into thinking that he was still working on building him a female in order to buy some time. He should have known better.
Fleeing out of the laboratory, Victor left behind the macabre remains of his work and stumbled home, frantic to make sure that no harm befell the rest of his family. Who knew how quickly Dracula would take his revenge.
*****
Several days had passed and Dracula still had not sought vengeance against Victor or his family, but that was small comfort. Victor felt sure that it was only a matter of time before Dracula would strike.
Victor was in a constant state of paranoia, looking around each corner before entering a room, not allowing any member of his family outside the house on his or her own.
“What has gotten into you lately? Why do you seem so frightened
?” Elizabeth asked. “Has it anything to do with your work?”
Victor was shocked. His eyes widened in wonder. How had she guessed?
“My work?” he spluttered.
“Yes. Are you worried about what Professor Van Helsing will think?”
Victor was taken aback. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I assume that your new state of heightened tension is due in some way to the work you were doing for Professor Van Helsing. After all, it has been nearly a week since you have entered your laboratory. I just assumed that whatever experiment he has you doing is not going well and you are worried what he will think of you. I know his respect and admiration means much to you. But we are all human, Victor, and as such are prone to mistakes. Or is it not anything that you did, but rather you have discovered that his theory is impossible, and you are afraid to tell him so?”
Victor nearly laughed, but managed to hold it in, not wishing to hurt Elizabeth’s feelings. “No. Nothing like that. I guess I am just a bit jumpy since William’s death.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I know what you mean. I am secretly glad you won’t let me go to the market by myself, not only because I enjoy your company, but because I confess that I am a little more leery around strangers these days.”
Victor really must go back to his laboratory soon in order to clean and gather his instruments, though he was loath to gaze upon the destruction he had wreaked. He couldn’t leave the place in that state. What if someone were to discover the grisly scene? How would he explain it? No poor soul should have to see the remains of his morbid work.
That very night, Victor snuck out of the house and returned to his laboratory. He lit the lanterns and as the light slowly strengthened, dispelling the gloom and putting into sharp relieve the disquieting display of pickled organs upon the shelves and the remains of his dark work, Victor more fully realized the horrific aspect of the work he had been engaged in for the better part of five years. His laboratory looked like a medieval torture chamber.
With deliberate quickness, he picked up the destroyed pieces of viscera and tissue, flies buzzing around the torn flesh. He placed the body parts into a large wicker basket and covered it with a linen cloth he found tucked away in a cupboard. He walked out to the pond behind the house, placed a few big rocks into the basket, and rowed out to the middle where he heaved it over the side. Weighted with the stones, it sank quickly down into the abyss of dark water. Victor reflected sullenly on how much he felt like a murderer who was hiding the evidence of his dirty deed.
Victor returned to his laboratory and mopped the floors and wiped down the surfaces of the tables, as well as his instruments. He carefully packed them away in his traveling trunk and turned to leave, never planning on entering this room again.
He stopped.
Did the room seem more hazy than it had before? There was a strange mist hovering in the doorway of the laboratory. Even though this was his only way out of the room, Victor was afraid to pass through it. He had never seen fog act in such a strange manner, undulating and retreating, but remaining in the same eight feet or so of space instead of dispersing into the rest of the room.
To his horror, he watched as the mist slowly condensed and formed into the shape of a man. Dracula.
“I have tried to be reasonable with you, Doctor Frankenstein. Apparently, that doesn’t work. You are too stubborn. Your natural bigotry towards me won’t allow you to perform a simple request; therefore, I shall have to force your hand. If you do not do as I request, I shall cause the death of someone you hold dear. Since you have denied me the one companion I might have had to make my long days upon this earth tolerable, I shall kill Elizabeth on your wedding night.”
“Back, fiend! Back to the infernal pit from whence you came!” cried Victor. He opened his trunk and pulled out a scalpel, brandishing it in Dracula’s direction.
Dracula only laughed, an evil, cold sound that filled Victor with dread. He had never heard such a laugh, so full of malice.
“Do you really think that little pig-sticker is going to do me any harm?”
“Let’s find out!” Victor stabbed quickly at Dracula, aiming for his heart. Dracula easily dodged the jab. Victor tried again, slashing the scalpel viciously across Dracula’s throat. Dracula had leaned back, the scalpel barley nicking his jugular.
“Your mortal instruments are no match for the likes of me. I cannot be killed by any weapon you can throw at me.”
Victor had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that Dracula was right.
“Am I to take it that you are declining to build a wife for me, as you promised?” Dracula sneered.
In response, Victor cocked back his other hand into a fist and launched it at Dracula’s face. The wretch made no indication that he had even felt the blow once it landed.
“Your threats serve only to strengthen my resolve,” stated Victor. “It proves that I have made the correct decision, in light of your spiteful nature.”
“I see,” Dracula said. “If you shall not build me a wife, then I guess I shall have to procure one for myself.” With that, the tall monstrosity of a man turned into a bat and flew into the night.
Victor, his chest heaving from his exertion, placed the scalpel back with its companions. He peered into the sky, making sure that Dracula was indeed gone before stepping out the door, locking it behind him, and walking back up to the house.
His one consolation was that, unlike the last time he had seen Dracula, his lips were back to being thin and black. His cheeks had reverted back to the pallor of a corpse. He was devoid of the parody of life that his plump red lips and rosy complexion had given, proving that he had not recently fed. He knew that Dracula must drink blood in order to sustain himself, but perhaps animal blood did not have the same effect upon his visage as human blood. In any case, for now, Victor felt certain that no other human being had come to harm. He already had too much blood on his hands—the man Dracula had come upon in the woods, Felix De Lacey, William, and poor innocent Justine. Too many lives wasted because of him.
As he fell asleep that night, Victor thought about what Dracula had said. Which family member did he plan on killing to punish Victor? Would he go after Ernest, another young and innocent child? Would he go after his father, a man feeble with age, and therefore less likely to be able to fend off his attacks? He felt that Elizabeth was safe at least, for the time being anyway. He took Dracula’s words at face value and figured that she was safe so long as he didn’t marry her. He would just have to put her off for as long as he could.
As he dwelled on the fact that Dracula had presumed to get a wife on his own, Victor had to assume that he meant to steal away some poor maiden as he had thought to do with William. The hapless young woman would be at his mercy. Victor despaired at the fate of some unknown and innocent woman being in the clutches of Dracula, but since he could do little to prevent it, all he could focus on was keeping his family close and safe. He would work all the harder not to let any of them out of his sight until the threat of Dracula could somehow be thwarted. Then he would try to forget that he had ever created such a being.
A few days later, after breakfast, Elizabeth expressed her plans to visit the market.
“But it’s so early. Surely, no one’s stalls will be open yet?” Victor tried, wanting his family to stay in doors for the next few days, as an extra precaution.
“I like to get there early. You get the best produce that way, before it has been picked over by the masses.” Her tinkling laugh filled Victor’s bosom with warmth. How he loved that laugh! He shuddered to think of it being snuffed out of existence by the cruel hand of Dracula.
“Then I will go for you,” Victor desperately offered.
“That is so sweet of you, but I can manage.”
As a last-ditch effort, Victor blurted out, “But I have spilled ink on my cravat and need you to get the stain out before it sets in.”
Elizabeth looked at him quizzically. “What has gotten into you,
Victor? You know as well as I do that ink will have already stained your clothing beyond what anyone could hope to rectify, and besides, that’s the maid’s job, not mine.”
“You’ve got me. I wanted to purchase a surprise gift for you in town and if you were to stumble upon me, it would ruin everything.”
Elizabeth’s eyes lit up with interest and surprise. Bouncing merrily on her toes, she cried, “Really? You don’t need to do that.”
“I want to,” Victor pleaded.
“Oh, all right. I will stay home if it means that much to you. But I am trusting you to get everything on my list while you are in town,” she warned.
“Yes, of course. Consider it done. Just be sure that you and Father and Ernest stay in- doors until I get back.”
“Victor, you act so strange lately.”
“I wish I could explain, but please do this one thing for me?”
Elizabeth sighed. “Fine. I promise.”
“Thank you.”
Victor walked over and gave her a small kiss on the cheek that brought a pretty blush to her already rosy cheeks, as he knew it would. He took her list from her, as well as the hamper she used to haul goods back to the house, and walked into town.
It was a clear, beautiful morning. The rain that had seemed to plague Geneva of late was nowhere to be found. Not a cloud in sight. He took a deep breath of the fresh air, determined not to think about Dracula for once and just enjoy the nature all around him.
He had never liked going to market as a boy, dragged there by his mother and made to stand patiently as she shifted through cloth, crockery, and baked goods. In Romania it had been a chore, something to get through as quickly as possible and get back to his work. The one exception being his conversations with the old woman about Vlad Tepes.
He found himself enjoying it this time. Although he had been gone many years for school, he recognized many of the faces, who greeted him warmly and wished him well, handing him free food as he passed by. He felt invigorated being in the middle of a crowd of people, the hustle and bustle accompanied by loud noise lending a false air of excitement. Victor was all too aware of the way he had hidden himself away from society in recent years.
