Dawn: A Re-Imagining of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (The Frankenstein Saga Book 3)

by Merrie Destefano

  The King of Night was too strong.

  The memory of his kiss came back in the dark, along with the feel of his arms around me, his words whispering, Stay with me, Mary, we will build something together that no one has ever had before, our own undead empire—

  I stumbled, fell toward the wall and caught myself.

  The King had never said such things to me, but it was what had been in his heart. I knew it. He wanted something akin to what Byron was. An empire of creatures that couldn’t be killed—maybe this was why all of his followers had been terrified of Byron. Perhaps the King had placed an invisible mark upon him, similar to the one I wore. But I still couldn’t figure out how those children played into all of this.

  I found my way out of the long, narrow corridor, and faced the massive sanctuary once again. I pulled incensed air into my lungs and, for the first time, sensed the prayers of the believers who had oft visited this chapel. I wasn’t alone.

  Not as long as God was with me.

  Even if that dark King killed me, he couldn’t take my soul. No matter how many marks he placed upon me.

  I still had a choice.

  “Byron!” I called out, passion and fervor in my voice. “We must save that child—” This infant was a key, somehow. The sangsue King wanted her, that was why he tormented Claire so grievously, but my true King—the King of Light—wanted the child too.

  Lightning flashed and a carving of Christ upon the cross loomed beside me, looking as if it were made of flesh and blood. This King of Light would grieve over every single soul lost to the darkness.

  “You cannot give her to Claire,” Byron replied, his voice still a long way off.

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  More silence and time seemed to stretch out into infinity. Why hadn’t the child cried out?

  “I’ll kill Claire before I’ll let her harm this babe,” he said, sounding a bit like a child himself.

  “No one will get hurt. Not the child and not Claire.” I winced at the thought of what might be happening to my sister right now, while we were sheltered inside the church. Those beasts could be ripping her to shreds, just like they did to Byron. “Come out. Let me tend to the babe.”

  He came out of the shadows at the far end of the sanctuary. At first, I thought one of the many statues was coming to life and I startled, stepping backward. Then I calmed as he continued to approach, looking more human with each step he took—until he stood right before me and a successive brace of lightning illuminated the chapel in staccato blasts.

  I shuddered.

  There was no doubt I’d created a monster. Fortunately, he had within him the gentle heart of a child, much sweeter and more compassionate than the heart he’d possessed before he died. The babe lay cradled in one arm as if she belonged there, her fist in her hungry mouth, her bright eyes searching for the light, her head nested against his torn breast.

  Fourteen

  I held the child in my arms, flesh against flesh, her tiny body warm against mine, a gentle reprieve against the brutal night. She sighed, her eyes blinking drowsily, and I longed to sleep with her. There was such calm in her embrace, an almost supernatural peace. I didn’t want to fight it.

  Though I knew I must.

  My own dead child tried to come back to me, superimposed over the face of my niece. A ghost. A haunting of the life I almost had. A chill ran through me and I shook it off, chasing my dead daughter away, choosing life instead.

  “Sleep, little one,” I whispered.

  My niece continued to purse her lips open and closed, even as she slept, imagining she was nursing.

  Byron stretched out beside me, his long legs before him, his back against the wall. Paintings and sculptures surrounded us, seen for brief moments when jagged bolts of lightning pierced the sky and dripped light through the windows. From time to time I thought I saw shadows outside those same windows, shadows that moved and tried to peer in.

  “Do you think Claire is safe?” I asked Byron, a glimmer of hope in my heart, as I cleaned the baby the best I could, using a torn portion of her blanket as a cloth.

  “She’s gone,” he said, his voice a monotone.

  “But there was no blood on her mouth, she hasn’t fed yet. Maybe there’s still a chance—”

  “It’s too late for her. And she will never touch that child while I’m…” he paused and I wondered if he had planned to say while I’m alive.

  I couldn’t see him in the darkness, and I wondered if his heart was softening or hardening. The old Byron hadn’t cared about his newborn child and had stolen our horse, leaving Claire and the child behind, defenseless. The new Byron acted as if he would lay down his life for the babe. I expected him to argue his point long, until he convinced me all was lost and that I’d never see Claire again. I thought he’d give me one of his sly grins and lower his voice, right when he delivered his strongest argument. Instead, the new Byron allowed silence to swallow us, until I realized I’d rather be listening to him try to change my mind.

  Anything would be better than wondering if Claire was a truly a monster now, just like Percy.

  Sleep came at last. I thought it would never come, that I would weather this storm awake, my nerves knife-sharp and brittle. I planned to hold the babe until morning light poured in upon us.

  But that’s not what happened.

  I slept.

  A nightmare came and stole me away; to a far kingdom I went, one I may have imagined or maybe the dark King was speaking to me in my slumber, leading me astray. His hand was on mine, warm—not cold like it had been earlier, but hot as human flesh—and he was pulling me, laughter in his voice.

  “This way, my beloved—”

  But that was what Percy called me. I no longer liked to be called that.

  The King pointed toward a high crest. We were already in the mountains, snow deep as our knees, and we leapt like deer, from one small village to the next, stopping to feast and drink when we grew weary.

  I never questioned our food or drink. Blood and flesh. Had I not always dined on this? Perhaps human blood and flesh made it different, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

  He kissed me and I was made even stronger.

  Up and up we went, followed by the sangsue children who smiled at me and called me Mother. The baby, Claire’s baby, nestled in my arms, though I had not realized it until now.

  I startled when the infant looked up at me, a tiny drop of blood on her lips.

  “Come, my love, we’re nearly there,” the King said, his voice sparkling like champagne. Just being beside him invigorated me and I no longer worried about the drop of blood. My niece was with me. It was what I had wanted.

  To have her as my own.

  My child, forever.

  The King kissed my cheek and we continued to the crest of the mountain peak. I imagined that we would continue up forever, until we housed in the clouds themselves, fashioning our own heaven, just below the kingdom of God.

  But that wasn’t where we went.

  We rounded one last boulder.

  We stood on the highest peak and there beneath us opened a wide chasm, a black cavern that led down into the earth.

  “This way, beloved one,” he said, one arm about my waist, just as Byron had done when we raced through the streets of Geneva. “Only one step and we will be there.”

  But I didn’t want to go. I clutched the babe in my arms and turned around, looking for another way.

  “Down, Mother,” the sangsue child with red-gold hair said, her hands on me. She pushed.

  And I fell. Forever down, toward the depths of the earth, flames seeking my skin, the rocky cavern tossing me back and forth, breaking my bones and causing the child, my child, to fall away into darkness alone.

  “No!” I cried, already knowing it was too late.

  Fifteen

  Heat flicked against my skin and I tossed and moaned until I woke up. My eyes opened to light and warmth and for the first time, I realized my clothes were soaked fr
om the rain and a chill had set in upon me. I shivered, despite the heat. And the child was gone.

  “Where’s the babe?” I demanded, my throat dry and sore.

  A hand rested on my shoulder, followed by a strange voice.

  “She’s safe. She’s being fed.”

  A woman leaned in toward me, wrapping me in a thin blanket. Her hair hung in long damp strands, but I couldn’t see her face for a small fire burned behind her. Several pews had been torn apart and they fed the flames that gave us heat.

  A shudder ran through me and then another.

  “Take off your wet clothes. Hurry, now, and don’t worry that we’re watching you.”

  I recognized the voice then. Hannah. I fought a smile as I tugged off my britches and boots. Percy had lied—the old woman was safe. She held a blanket high so no one could watch, but I saw shadows moving on the other side of the cloth. There were more people than I could count. Where had they come from and who were they? I hadn’t seen a living soul on my journey to Geneva.

  “Byron?” I called out.

  “He’s resting,” she answered, a slight growl in her words. “As if the sangsue weren’t enough to deal with. The dead should stay dead.”

  A flash of guilt ran through me. This would be our life, him an outcast and me bearing the shame in my soul.

  The blanket fell over me like a robe then, for my clothing had been removed. A plump woman stood arm’s length away, my niece and another infant suckling at her breasts. A heartbeat passed and then the baby was in my arms again. I clutched her tight, angry and confused, searching for Byron’s face in the flickering light.

  “Who are all these people?” I asked, but no one was listening. They mumbled among themselves, one strong voice rising above the others, causing me to stand up on my toes, trying to see over the faceless crowd.

  “We can’t leave until morning,” the voice said. It was a man and the tone in his words brought comfort.

  “John? Is that you?” I asked. “Percy said you were—that you had been turned—”

  John appeared before me then, the tooth necklace Hannah had given him gone, his clothes torn and long scratches on his arms, just like Claire. Bruises colored his face, along with a half-circle of dried blood on his neck that looked almost like a bite.

  “I’m here,” he said, and I didn’t care whether he was human or monster. I was tired of trying to tell the difference. His arms opened to me and I fell inside, my niece sheltered between us.

  “Who are all these people?” I asked.

  John shrugged. “By the time I found Hannah, she’d already gathered a group of local people from nearby cottages and villas. Together we raced toward the city and found sanctuary here.”

  “Are you well?”

  He sighed before answering. “Tired, but otherwise very well. Now that we’ve found you.”

  I saw Byron then, standing apart from the others. That would be his life now. Because of what I had done, he would never truly fit in with our society again.

  “How did you get here?” I asked John. “A fierce army of sangsue have been guarding the city—”

  “Hannah knew a secret passage through the alleys. It took us longer, but we only had to fight them a few times.” He paused to glance back at Byron for a moment, then continued. I had a feeling he had already asked this question. “Is Claire with you?”

  Pain centered in my chest and throat, so strong I couldn’t speak. I shook my head.

  “Is she one of them?” Hannah asked.

  “I—I don’t know,” I said. I didn’t tell them my sister had called the sangsue King “master” or that she had demanded her own child for some dark unknown purpose.

  “She may yet survive, somehow,” John said, although the assurance in his voice was weak. Then he turned to stare at Byron again. “You did it,” he whispered down to me. “You brought him back. I didn’t think…” But he said no more.

  Hannah saw us looking at Byron and she spat on the floor, muttering to herself in a low growl. It sounded like a prayer of protection, something she would have used against the sangsue, except this time she directed it toward Byron. Then she turned back to the crowd behind her and raised her voice. “Rest, all of you. It’s the only chance you’ll get.”

  As one, the faceless throng did as she said, some sitting on the floor, some lying down.

  As glad as I was to have John back and to be reunited with Hannah, I began to worry, wondering if the sangsue King had merely allowed them to find me. But why would he do that? Wasn’t I stronger with them at my side?

  Unless…

  John and I crouched on the floor, our backs against one of the remaining pews, faces to the fire. It felt good to be back with him, his arm around me, remembering how we had fought the wolf and killed sangsue together. Even though I hadn’t known him long, I felt I could trust him.

  I snuck a glance up at him, at the bruises on his face and that strange half-circle of dried blood on his neck.

  Of course, I could trust him, I told myself again. Unless...

  Unless that circle of blood was a sangsue bite.

  Sixteen

  Light streamed through tall stained glass windows, waking me. I had slept throughout the rest of the night, and now my head ached. I needed water and food, I needed to get dressed; but more than either of these things, I needed to get out of the city before mid-day. That was when my deal with the sangsue King would run out. A day and a night, then I had to give him my answer.

  Or my soul.

  Byron curled in the shadows, his back against the wall, the babe—his babe—nestled in one arm. He must have taken her sometime while I slept. He was watching me.

  “We must leave,” I whispered quietly. No one else was awake yet. John slumped on the floor, his back to me.

  Byron nodded.

  We needed to leave Hannah and John behind. As much as I longed to have them with me, something had disturbed me throughout the night, some fear I couldn’t quite put a face on until I woke up.

  I knew what it was now.

  I couldn’t take a chance on John being one of them.

  I had my hands full worrying about Percy and Claire, wondering if they’d joined forces while I slept, if they might have a trap set for me.

  The thought of them waiting for me, somewhere in the streets of Geneva, brought an unwelcome chill to my skin, like I’d let a demon crawl inside me.

  Byron and I climbed to our feet at the same time, making no sound, careful not to rustle our clothes as we dressed. I considered the small arsenal we had left between us, my knife and the bone-and-iron scythe, his rifle and a handful of bullets. After tucking the knife in my boot, I pointed to the mark on my cheek, reminding Byron that the child would be safer with me. He reluctantly handed the baby to me.

  A sharp expression darkened his eyes as he nodded toward the cathedral door, and then cautiously shouldered it open. We both stood on the threshold, staring out at the city landscape, our mouths open, our hearts hammering in our chests as we realized the perilous journey we had ahead of us.

  Bodies were strewn everywhere, some dead, others bitten and drained and barely alive like Elsie had been when I found her. A pack of the dark-skinned monsters huddled together to the left of the door, as if they’d been waiting for us, not expecting the sun to rise. Heads tucked down, backs bearing the brunt of the sun’s beams, a soft steam hissed off their exposed bits of skin.

  I searched them for familiar characteristics, anything that would let me know if one of them was Percy.

  Or Claire.

  They stood together, united in purpose and devoted to the same King. None of them stirred when we tiptoed past. I kept turning around, expecting them to awaken and lunge at me.

  Then, as I headed down the steps, I saw my cross necklace on the ground, a few feet away. I glanced around, half-expecting to see Elsie. She must have been here; maybe she had dropped the cross while searching for me or, worse yet, it might have been ripped off when she succumbe
d to the sangsue call. My stomach twisted as I bent down to pick up the small piece of jewelry. How had she gotten separated from Hannah? Had the monsters overpowered her?

  Had she cried and begged them to let her go?

  I would never know.

  I paused to fasten the necklace around the baby’s neck, a shaft of weak sunlight glinting off the carved bit of human bone and silver chain.

  “Allegra. Baby Allegra,” I said, naming the child.

  Byron smiled, the stitches on his face creasing and pulling. “I like that,” he said.

  I nodded in agreement.

  We continued down the stairs and through the city, stepping over the bodies that were everywhere, careful to avoid the sangsue that huddled in their midst. The farther we went, the smaller the alleys and streets became until it was difficult to navigate our way—the space limited because the death toll had been so high. Carrion birds darted around us, their wings brushing our faces and hands in their eagerness; rats scampered down gutters and stopped to feast, squealing if we drew too close. Our boots grew sticky with blood as we pushed our way past carcasses, both human and animal.

  At times it was difficult to tell the dead humans from the sleeping monsters and once I accidentally roused a snarling sangsue. His jaws sprung open like a steel trap, set for a woodland beast. I didn’t have time to fight, I merely flung Hannah’s scythe at him, then jumped out of his reach as the blessed bone-edged blade did its work, dissolving to him to ash.

  Byron and I were fortunate, for neither of us had been prepared for anything like this. Even with weapons drawn, there were too many bodies, too many potential threats and not enough time.

  A lone figure began to follow us, footsteps occasionally causing me to glance over my shoulder. I didn’t see him. Not for a long time. And Byron was focused on our journey’s end—the river. From this vantage point, we could see it peeking out at us between distant buildings, a thin strand of silver that bridged the lake with the rest of the world.