Bride

by Kyle Alexander Romines

  “Did you sleep?” I asked, running a hand through my hair. Victor appeared unwell. There were dark circles under his eyes, which were red and swollen.

  He shook his head. “I’ll manage.”

  “Where are we?” I asked. Everything I had known had been left behind, with Victor as my only remaining anchor in a strange, unfamiliar world.

  “On the way to Perth,” he answered. “We should reach the city by midday, as long as we have the wind at our backs. With any luck, Henry will already be waiting for us.”

  The wind whispered over the side of the boat, and something soft and cool landed on my face. I brushed it away, surprised by the foreign sensation, and my fingers came away wet. When I looked up, the sky was dotted with endless white specks, stretching as far as I could see. Another white flake landed on my hand, and I stared at it with an expression of wonder.

  “Victor, what is this?” I held out my hands to catch the white precipitation, amazed.

  Despite his exhaustion, Victor offered a weak smile. My expression of happiness seemed to have given him new life. “It’s snowing—the first snow of winter.”

  “Snow,” I echoed. “It’s beautiful.”

  I stared across the horizon, snow falling around me, overcome at the beauty of the scene. Maybe leaving the cottage behind wasn’t the end of the world, but a new adventure waiting around the corner. As long as Victor was at my side, I was sure that I could face whatever life held in store.

  It wasn’t long before Perth materialized over the horizon. The city was unlike anything I had ever before encountered. Boasting a population of over ten thousand, the city dwarfed the village of Loch Aberfrey in comparison. As our boat approached, the city seemed to spread out without end. A major port city, Perth was the center of Scottish industry, a chief exporter of whiskey, tanned leather, and fine linens—a true modern city.

  Our boat sailed into the harbor, passing other, larger vessels, and for the first time it struck me how big the world truly was. I glanced at Victor, who was busy steering the boat, thankful he was there with me in such a place. After we docked, we gathered what few belongings we had brought with us and made our way into the city. As before, all the sights and sounds previously unknown to me filled me with utter delight. Soldiers patrolled the roads in units, priests administered food and drink to those in need under the shadow of the church, and traveling farmers herded animals through the streets. Unlike before, this time I was more reserved in my embrace of these new encounters, remembering how the villagers had reacted to me in Loch Aberfrey.

  The city teemed with people too numerous to count, so busy that no one seemed to pay attention to anyone else. Unlike Loch Aberfrey, where the villagers had remarked on the unnatural whiteness of my skin, no one here seemed to notice me at all, which in its own way made me feel quite lonely, as if I was among these people but not one of them.

  “Stay with me,” I said to Victor, trying to keep up as we merged into the mob. People passed between us, separating him from my sight among the flurry of snow. Before I began to panic, Victor reached back and slid my hand into his.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, squeezing my hand gently. “I’m here.”

  Together, we navigated our way through the congested city in search of Henry Clerval. Victor and Henry had previously come to Perth on their journey to the Orkney Islands for Victor’s attempt to bring me to life. Following our disastrous dinner in the tavern, Henry had promised to meet Victor where the pair had parted ways, before we lost him amidst the chaos. After walking for over half an hour, Victor and I came to the Perth Bridge, a colossal arched bridge spanning the River Tay. Victor stopped at a spot by the western shore, and there we waited for Henry, watching the people go by.

  Time passed, the hours slipping by one after another, all without any sign of Henry. Victor kept a vigilant watch for his friend, diverting his attention to make occasional observations in his journal, or for ever-frequent glances at his pocket watch. I was content to survey the passersby. Human life was still so novel to me. Everywhere I looked there was something new to see. Unnoticed, I studied the people traversing the bridge with a keen eye, learning more of the world with each observation.

  It was in this pursuit that I witness something that I had wanted to experience all along without knowing it. A young couple—a man and a woman, both in their early twenties—came to stand a short distance away on the bridge. I watched enviously as the two held hands, laughing and smiling, each clearly drawn to the other. The young woman whispered something into the young man’s ear, and then he cradled the back of her neck and kissed her.

  The moment was electrifying. The lovers were just like the knight and the princess in my story, only real, before my very eyes. This was romantic love. As I observed them, I felt an insatiable desire to share the same emotion, joined by a sensation of loss, as if something was missing from my life. I watched for so long that eventually the couple caught me staring, and I was forced to avert my eyes until they moved on. I then turned my gaze back to Victor, who was still occupied by his journal.

  He chose me, I thought. Over his family, over his safety, by refusing to hand me over to his monster, he had chosen me above all else. And I had chosen him, too. Whatever his flaws—his tendency to hide the truth, his intemperate moods, his clinical, obsessive nature—deep down, beneath the surface, was a good heart that had been tainted by sorrows. All the tender moments we had shared, the kindness and gentleness with which he treated me after my birth, came rushing back to me at once.

  Victor looked from his journal and saw me looking at him. “What is it?” he asked, as if perplexed by my expression. “Persephone?”

  I started toward him, trying to utter the words I had not had the courage to say, but before I could speak, a bell chimed loudly in the distance. A cool wind rushed over the bridge, and the light began to shrink away.

  Victor frowned and shook his head, obviously upset. “He’s not coming.” He sounded angry, but his anxious tone betrayed something else: fear.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked, concerned.

  “Henry should have been here by now. I don’t understand why he didn’t meet us.” He paused and looked up at the horizon. “We can’t wait here any longer. It’ll be dark soon, and we’ll need to find food and accommodations for the night.”

  These tasks proved easier said than done. For all his intellect, it was becoming clear to me that Victor seemed to have as much trouble interacting with ordinary people as I did, perhaps more. He had kept to himself mostly on the bridge, appearing standoffish even when approached by strangers. Most of the inns were full, likely from travelers seeking refuge from the impending storm. Two attempts to secure lodging were thwarted when he grew angry with or otherwise offended the manager, despite having ample coins. I wondered what it must have been like to grow up wealthy and intelligent in a society where so much of the population was poor and illiterate. Perhaps we were both, in our own ways, outsiders.

  By the time we found lodgings, the roads were already obscured by almost two feet of snow. The heavens continued to empty themselves above, the bleak sky now a sea of white. Our spacious accommodations included two adjoining bedrooms, a kitchen, and a parlor, at a steep cost that Victor had been more than willing to pay for the privacy it afforded.

  As the sky grew dark outside, we sat at the kitchen table, where Victor had piled his remaining belongings: a few journals he had recovered from the cottage, a worn leather satchel, and some currency. He sat at the table, his head in his hands, listening to the wind whistling outside the front door, which he had bolted shut.

  “Our funds won’t last much longer,” he said. “And we can’t wait for Henry forever. That devil will follow us here eventually. We have days before he finds us, at the most. We’ll have to keep moving if we want to stay one step ahead of him.”

  “Where will we go?” I asked. “Geneva?”

  Victor looked horrified at the very idea. “The only reason my family is
safe is because he’s hunting us. If we sought them out, we would lead him right to them.” He shook his head, his words bitter. “Now I can never return.” He pushed back from the table and walked away.

  I followed him into the parlor, where the fire on the hearth burned softly, warding away the encroaching cold. “Is it so terrible?” I asked, touching the back of his arm. Victor sighed, but he did not pull away from my touch. I smiled. “I’m still here with you—forever.”

  “Nothing lasts forever,” he said sadly.

  My grip on his arm lingered, and I slid closer to him, until there was only a hair’s breadth between us. His somber eyes gleamed in the firelight, haunted and tired. I was overcome with the sudden desire to kiss him, stronger than any impulse I had ever experienced before. I drew him to me and kissed him on the lips. The first kiss was soft and all too brief.

  When I broke the kiss, Victor initially showed surprise, but as I leaned toward him again, a change came over his features. He threw himself into the next kiss, a long, passionate embrace with our arms wound around each other. Victor’s heart was pounding wildly; if I had possessed a beating heart, it would have done the same.

  For one solitary moment in time, everything was perfect. I wanted it to last forever. Suddenly, Victor pulled away without warning. “No,” he said, taking a step backward. “I can’t do this.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, confused. “What’s wrong?” I moved closer to him, but he backed away before I could reach out to him, leaving my hand grasping empty air. “You said you loved me.”

  Victor shifted uncomfortably in place, his expression pained. “I do care about you, Persephone. But I can’t be with you—not the way you want.”

  “Why not?” I asked, unable to understand. “Don’t you find me beautiful?” I approached, but still he kept his distance, partially fading into the shadows beyond the hearth’s light. Something wonderful had passed between us only seconds ago. If I could just get close to him, kiss him again, surely he would feel the same way.

  “You know I do. I always have.” His voice strained with considerable effort, as if he was fighting a losing battle against himself. A part of him wanted me too—I had seen it in his eyes. His hand slipped into his pocket and retrieved his watch, as if drawing upon it for strength. “Forgive me. I didn’t know it would be this hard. Persephone, there’s someone else. Her name is Elizabeth.”

  My mind was reeling. With a few words, he had shattered my world. It had never occurred to me that Victor might be in love with someone else, not when I was so smitten by him. It suddenly dawned on me that the picture inside his pocket watch wasn’t of Victor’s mother at all—it was of Elizabeth. I had longed for the outside world for so long, but now I just wanted to go back to the way things were at the cottage, when it was just the two of us.

  “Elizabeth,” I repeated slowly. It was yet another familiar name, just as William’s had been. “I know that name.” How was it that I recognized all these names from Victor’s past?

  “You really don’t remember anything, do you?” Henry’s words came rushing back to me, and another thought occurred to me. What if the visions I had experienced were memories? Victor retreated into the kitchen, but my next words caused him to stop cold.

  “I want you to tell me who I was before you dug me out of the ground.”

  The mood in the room changed in an instant. An unspoken truth hung over us. “Who is Justine, Victor?”

  Victor froze, suddenly white.

  “We knew each other once, didn’t we?”

  “This can’t be,” he said in a hoarse whisper, trembling. His expression darkened, his brows arched upward as if just realizing that he had committed a grievous sin. “You shouldn’t be able to remember anything. You were dead for too long.”

  “So it’s true.” My fists shook. I was barely able to conceal my fury at the man I had professed my love for only seconds ago. “Tell me, Victor. I want to hear you say it.”

  A silence fell over the room. Victor hung his head low, looking more defeated than I had ever seen him. “Your name was Justine Moritz. You came to live with my family when you were twelve years old and became my brother’s nanny. Even though you were one of the servants, you were like family.” He closed his eyes, as if seeking a reprieve from his mistakes. “You died because of me.”

  This was the terrible truth he had hidden from me for so long. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You were a new creation,” he said. “Innocent. As you learned and grew, you became someone entirely different than who you had once been. Your past had been wiped away, your suffering erased, and I didn’t want to burden you with the truth.” He paused. “No, that’s not true. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid. I didn’t know if you could forgive me, and I couldn’t bring myself to lose you again.”

  I had never imagined that Victor was afraid of losing me. “Will there be more memories?”

  Victor shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m surprised you’re able to recall anything at all, even glimpses and fragments.”

  I had another name once, and a life of my own, until it was taken from me. I remembered the noose on Justine’s neck—my neck—and with my fingers traced the spot where I had hung. “Who am I, Victor? Am I Justine, or am I Persephone?”

  He sighed, a long, sad sound that stirred a swell of pity in me. “Justine was one of the best people I’ve ever known. She was a kind and gentle soul, a person of faith. She couldn’t read or play music, but she had a lovely voice.” He turned away, into the darkness. “Justine is dead. You took her place. At first it hurt too much just to look at you, but as time passed, I found myself developing feelings for you. That’s why I couldn’t give you to the monster. I’m sorry, Persephone. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you.”

  “Then don’t.” My voice was firm, surer than it had ever been. “I love you. I don’t care about the rest of it, Victor. I want us to be together. Let Elizabeth go.”

  I started forward again, leaving Victor with nowhere else to go, his back to the table.

  “Wait,” he said before I could touch his face. “After the creature woke, I fell into a state of illness and madness, consumed with guilt over what I had done. It was Elizabeth who retrieved me and nursed me back to health. We were engaged not long after. Even now she waits for me in Geneva.” He looked into my eyes. “Now do you understand?”

  “Your feelings for her are of obligation,” I said. “They will fade in time. You will see.” I put my hand around his neck, tenderly, and brought my lips closer to his face.

  “No, Persephone. Stop.” He tried to escape, but I blocked his path of retreat. The more he struggled, the angrier I grew. I pushed him onto the table, my lips inches from his mouth.

  “Love me.” I tightened my grip on his neck, forgetting my own strength, and kissed him by force.

  “You’re hurting me,” Victor managed to say, struggling to breathe. My brow arched in horror at what I had done, and I released him at once. When he gazed upon me again, I recognized the look in his eyes immediately. It was the same look I had seen on the faces of the villagers who had called me a monster.

  “I’m sorry,” I started to say, but Victor was already on his feet. When I tried to detain him, he slipped from my grasp, leaving only the pocket watch behind in my outstretched hand. Then he was gone into the darkness, where the winds swept the snow inside, the door left open behind him.

  Chapter Eight

  Victor was gone. I stared after him into the vast domain of night, gripped by an overwhelming sense of shame. A lamppost at the end of the road cast a somber glow over the snow, where my maker’s footprints vanished beyond its reach. The world outside was utterly quiet, save for the howling winds, a far cry from the busy city streets that greeted us upon our arrival.

  What have I done? My knees buckled, and I collapsed in a heap on the floor, horrified by my actions. I had only wanted Victor’s love, but in my unbridled rage, I had driven him away. Now he
had seen what I was truly capable of—and so had I. What was this inner fury that burned just beneath the surface, waiting to be unshackled? For a horrifying moment, I considered the possibility that deep down, I might just be every bit the monster the villagers supposed.

  “I didn’t mean to,” I whispered to the empty room. My body was seized by uncontrollable sobs as the firelight died low, ushering in the shadows around me. There was no peace for me that night, no sleep to be had. I waited all night for Victor to find his way back to me, to no avail. There are no words to describe my despondency when the first light of morning crept in, and still Victor had not returned.

  Bells rang loudly as the day began, and people everywhere emerged into the white world, going about their business. Perhaps he went searching for Henry, I thought, unable to come to terms with what I was beginning to understand. Or else the snows have delayed his return. I lingered there for hours, watching through the window for any sign of him as the hope slowly died in my heart. Finally, it dawned on me that Victor wasn’t coming back.

  I knelt on the cold, hard floor, my tears dried and spent. You said that you would never abandon me. “You promised.”

  Victor had been my sole companion. Since the moment of my birth, he had never been far from me. Now, for the first time in my life, I was truly alone.

  He can’t have gone far. I have to find him. If I could just reach him, I could make him understand. We could make everything like it was before.

  A loud knock came at the door. I peered out the window and saw the landlord beating on the door. There was no money for another night’s stay. I quickly collected the journals Victor had left behind in his haste and fled out the back door. Fighting back a growing sense of panic, I stumbled from the apartment, shielding my eyes from the overwhelming whiteness.

  Perth stood transformed under winter’s spell. Mounds of snow were piled everywhere I looked. Beside me, three buckets were filled with water that had frozen over. Bitter winds swept about, scattering snow like sands on a beach. I hurried through the city with only the clothes on my back to my name. Aside from Victor’s journals, the pocket watch he had left in my grasp was my only possession. I had no money, no connections, and nowhere to go. Without Victor, I was lost.