Bride

by Kyle Alexander Romines

  “You’re looking well,” I said.

  His sudden appearance left me taken aback. Time had changed us both, but even after the horrors of war he still possessed that same rugged handsomeness. There was something else, too. The spark in his eyes that had faded—a fragment of it seemed to reemerge when he looked at me.

  Gerhardt laughed at my surprise. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I probably wouldn’t recognize me either. After we crossed paths, I went to the docks and managed to find a job. I haven’t had a drink in three days.”

  I recovered quickly. “I am pleased to hear it, sir.”

  “I insist you call me Gerhardt.”

  “Very well, Gerhardt. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

  “I was hoping you might be willing to accompany me around the city this evening. We didn’t have much of a chance to talk the other day.” He was kind enough not to mention my sudden departure, though he had no way of knowing it had been in search of the creature.

  I hesitated at his offer, unsure whether or not to accept it. My revenge was almost at hand. Gerhardt was a distraction I hadn’t counted on. He was the last link to a past I wanted to forget, and I worried the emotions he stirred in me would weaken my resolve. Given the creature’s possessive jealousy, I was probably putting Gerhardt in danger just by being with him, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to decline.

  “Very well. What did you have in mind?”

  “All in good time, my lady,” Gerhardt said with a wink. He offered me his arm. “You deserve a proper escort about the town.”

  “How could I refuse such a gallant display?” I slid my arm into his and together we walked down the sidewalk, like a pair of very old friends reunited after a long parting. “To what might I ascribe such a dramatic transformation?”

  “Truthfully, it’s because of you.” The answer caught me off guard. “You reminded me of what Justine would have wanted for me. She would have been embarrassed at the life I was living. I knew then that it was time to stop wallowing in self-pity.”

  “Perhaps I spoke too harshly,” I allowed. I hadn’t really been angry with him, but at what we had lost—at what had been stolen from us.

  We left the town square behind and moved farther into a part of the city I had never visited. Though it was an old neighborhood, occupied mostly by peasants, there was something unexpectedly joyful about it. Everyone appeared friendly and happy, their worldly cares temporarily forgotten. Many recognized Gerhardt and offered a polite greeting as we passed. Everywhere I looked, there was a new wonder to behold. A juggler performed on the street corner nearby. A company danced furiously to a melody from a fiddler as onlookers applauded. This was the world as I had imagined it to be, in those days at the cottage when all I knew came from books.

  We stopped to watch a puppet show, and for a moment I found myself completely immersed in the performance. I clapped at the end and looked over to see Gerhardt beaming at me.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “That’s the first time I’ve seen you laugh,” he answered. A delicious array of aromas drifted on the wind, and I inhaled deeply. “Are you hungry?”

  I nodded. “I’m famished.” The crumpets that accompanied my tea had done little to satiate my hunger.

  “Then come with me.” He led me to a building that overlooked the lake. The crowded hall was full of commotion. We were forced to wade through fellow patrons until we found a place to sit. I observed the others, fascinated. From the look of their clothes, they had none of the trappings of wealth. Their life was surely full of hardship, and yet they seemed so content.

  “Have you ever thought of leaving all of this behind and starting over somewhere new?”

  “Never,” Gerhardt answered. “For all its problems, Geneva is my home. Besides—this was where she lived. Leaving would be like leaving her all over again.” He sighed. “I thought going to war would make her passing easier to forget. Instead there were only more bad memories.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

  “There’s no need to apologize,” he said, brightening. “Enough of the past. Why don’t you tell me more about yourself, Miss Moritz?”

  “Please, call me Penny.”

  “As you wish,” he said. “Where do you come from?”

  “I was born in Scotland,” I answered. “The nearest village was miles away. It was cold and stormy—not like Geneva at all.”

  “Do you come from a large family?”

  “Most of them are gone,” I answered. “I’ve been alone for a long time now.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Gerhardt said. “I know what that’s like.” We both looked away, until the food arrived moments later.

  The meal was unlike anything I had tasted before. We ate fish that had been freshly caught and potatoes that had been lightly fried in oil. Each bite was a delight. We spoke at length about his job on the docks and what I thought of the city, lost in conversation.

  “Thank you for a delightful evening,” I said when we finally left.

  “The evening isn’t over yet. Come with me.”

  I followed him, intrigued. We came to an area near the park that had been brightly lit in anticipation of evening, where a trio of musicians played a lively tune while villagers danced.

  “Well?” Gerhardt asked. “Would you like to dance?” he asked with a mock-bow.

  I hesitated, uncertain. “I’ve never danced like this before.” Unlike the elegant ballroom dances I had learned from Victor, the commoners’ movements were fast and joyful.

  “You seem like a quick study to me.”

  Gerhardt took my hand before I could protest, and within moments we were spinning in place with the other couples while onlookers clapped and tapped their feet to the melody. I felt a rush of excitement, and for a moment it was as if we were the only two there. The music faded all too quickly, leaving us standing together. We were close enough I could feel his heart beating.

  A ring hung from a thread around his neck. It had been tucked into his shirt, but must have come loose as we danced. I recognized it at once. It was the ring he had slid on my finger the day we pledged ourselves to each other—the day William died, and my life was cut tragically short.

  He must have taken it from my corpse, I realized. Now it served as a final reminder of Justine.

  I peered into the eyes of the man I had once loved, and I found myself burdened with the familiar doubts that had plagued me since setting foot in Geneva. I felt a pang of regret at the memory of the priest’s murder. What would Gerhardt think of me if he knew the truth? Would he welcome me with open arms, or reject me for the monster I had become?

  While I wrestled with these conflicted emotions, Gerhardt stiffened suddenly. I thought perhaps he was going to kiss me, but instead his brow furrowed as he looked down at our hands, still entwined, as if noticing something for the first time.

  “Your hands,” Gerhardt muttered. “They’re like ice.” He looked up at me, startled. I pulled away before it occurred to him that I had no pulse. Gerhardt followed me through the dispersing crowd. “Wait,” he said before I could outpace him, and I turned around reluctantly. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “I took no offense,” I said. “The hour is late, and I really should be on my way back to the inn.”

  He looked at me for a long time and then reached into his pocket. “Before you go, there’s something I want you to have.”

  I gasped when I saw the object in his hand. It was my father’s crucifix, which had been ripped from my neck by the mob. “Where did you get that?”

  “It was Justine’s,” he said, holding it out to me. “Justine’s life was built around faith—faith in God, and in the goodness of people. She was kind to others, no matter who they were. I think she would want you to have it.”

  “Thank you,” I said, my words a whisper. I took the crucifix and brought it close to my chest, like a mother cradling an infant. H
ow different I had become from the girl who last held it. A part of me wanted desperately to tell Gerhardt the truth then and there. He was offering a life—a real life. I had a chance at happiness with him, for something else besides the rage and need for revenge that had consumed what was left of my soul.

  No matter how much I wanted it, it was not to be. Any life at my side would be a cursed life. I would remain young forever while he withered and died of old age. I couldn’t give him children, or a family, all because of Victor. We would be alone together, outcasts from the world. I would not do that to Gerhardt—not to him.

  The sky darkened above. Before either of us could say another word, a shadow crept over Gerhardt’s face. The creature loomed a short space away, his black lips pulled back in an ugly sneer. Gerhardt’s eyes widened when he saw the creature’s monstrous frame, and he moved to shield me with his body.

  “Where were you?” the creature demanded, his yellow eyes concealed under the hood that covered the upper half of his face. “I’ve been searching for you.”

  “I was occupied.” I stared up at him with a steely expression, determined not to show weakness.

  “I can see that,” the creature growled, turning toward Gerhardt. “The two of you make quite a handsome couple.”

  “Do you know this man, Penny?” Gerhardt managed to say, unable to tear his gaze away.

  “This is my…” I paused, unsure what words to choose next.

  My body tensed as the creature advanced. I looked around for help, but most of the others had already departed the area. The creature brought his arms up and slowly lowered his hood.

  “My God,” Gerhardt whispered when he saw the full horror of the creature’s face for the first time.

  “Don’t,” I said firmly before the creature could take another step. “I’ll go with you—just leave him alone.”

  The creature gazed upon Gerhardt with disdain but turned away obediently, and I let out an inaudible sigh of relief that he was unharmed.

  “What are you doing?” Gerhardt asked, but I shook my head.

  “Goodbye, Gerhardt. Please, don’t follow us.”

  He stood on the sidewalk as we walked away, his brow furrowed, wearing a strange expression.

  “Who was that man?” the creature demanded when we were alone.

  “No one,” I protested, once more forcing myself to stomach the sight of him.

  “You’re lying,” the creature hissed. He leaned closer, his face inches from mine. The brick wall cracked beside me when he struck it with his fist. “If he truly means nothing to you, perhaps I should kill him to ensure his silence.”

  “Don’t hurt him,” I said. “He was someone I knew long ago. He does not know me now.”

  “Indeed he does not,” the creature replied. “No one can understand you like I do. We are the same.” A couple passed us by on the road, and he fell quiet until they vanished. Then he took my face in his hand and turned it to face him. “You can never be like them, no matter how much you want to be. Your hands are stained with blood, the same as mine.” He released me and marched away. “Do not forget your promise.”

  I rubbed my jaw and followed him beneath the emerging moonlight. “Where are we going?”

  He did not answer.

  I should have been pleased with all that I had set in motion, but instead events threatened to spill out of control. Though Victor’s words in the forest had hardened my resolve, my time with Gerhardt stirred lingering reservations. The creature was too unstable an ally, and even my manipulations were not capable of suppressing his bloodlust.

  We roamed the city like a pair of wolves seeking fresh prey to devour. The creature kept his back to me, and I struggled to match his pace. I felt increasingly uneasy regarding his ominous silence. His angry, hastening stride made me wonder what hateful thoughts lurked behind that inhuman visage. It was clear that he had not taken kindly to seeing me with Gerhardt. I chided myself for giving into sentiment so easily. I should have been more careful. Now I had placed both Gerhardt and my plans at risk.

  The buildings grew fewer in number. The creature slowed his pace as we walked through a quiet neighborhood, beyond the reach of the lampposts. Those few who met us on the road turned away, aghast at the creature’s appearance. He seemed not to care at the attention he was attracting.

  “What are you doing?” I asked as I caught up to him.

  He spun around to face me when I grabbed his arm. “This was your plan, was it not, for me to reveal myself? You wanted me to show the world Frankenstein’s monster, so that the good people of Geneva would take up arms against him, as they did with you so long ago. That is your revenge, is it not?”

  I ground my teeth together as another couple fled at the sight of my companion. “Not like this. Not with me here.”

  The creature scoffed at me. “You’re afraid to be seen with me, is that it? Afraid that I will tarnish the false image you’ve created for these pitiful beings? You think your schemes so skillful. Still you understand so little.” He came to a stop outside the splintered door to a meager hut, where a lantern burned in the window.

  “What is this place?” I asked, listening to the sounds coming from the house. I pushed my way in front of him, barring his path to the door. “Why have you brought me here?”

  “To do what you won’t.”

  With that, he brushed me aside and sent the door crashing to the ground with a single blow. Screams echoed from inside the hut, where a family of three had gathered for dinner. Before the family could react, the creature grabbed the father by the neck at the table. A horrible crunching noise filled the air as he crushed the man’s throat. Blood spewed from the man’s mouth, covering the creature’s hands. The woman screamed again when his head hit his plate. The creature seized her by the hair as she attempted to run and pinned her to the floor, his arms around her neck.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded. “Stop. This woman has nothing to do with Victor. She’s innocent.” I grabbed at his shoulder, trying to tear him away in order to prevent the senseless killing, but he knocked me back with one hand.

  The creature released his grasp, and the woman slumped over, dead. “No one is innocent. Least of all you, Persephone.” He practically spat the words at me.

  A low whimper broke the quiet that had fallen over the room, and we both noticed the child hiding under the table at the same time. The creature started toward her, but I stepped in his way and shoved him against the wall with all the strength I could muster.

  “No,” I said.

  We watched the child flee the hut, and the creature swept me aside with both hands. Now it was I who was pinned to the wall. “Admit it,” he said, his face lined with contempt. “You care for these people.”

  I did not shy away from his gaze. “I do not. We needed one left alive to spread the word. Otherwise it would take too long for the bodies to be discovered.”

  He bent lower, and the touch of his long, black hair made my skin crawl. “You may fool everyone else, but you cannot deceive me. I know you too well for that. Even now you hold out hope for yourself.” He sniffed the air, as if a foul stench had filled the room. “I can smell it on you.”

  I tore free from his grip and started to storm from the house, but stopped in the doorway at the sound of his voice.

  “This is your design, not mine. When the villagers see what I have done, they will blame Victor—just as you said would happen.”

  I nodded and turned to look at him, ignoring the bodies he had left in his wake. “Once the constable has the journal in his possession, he will have all the proof he needs.”

  “And Elizabeth?” the creature asked.

  “What of her?” I asked angrily. “Once she learns of the journal’s contents, she will abandon him.” The creature shook his head, and I frowned. “What?”

  “You know what you must do,” he said. “If you have it in you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I insisted.

&n
bsp; His eyes never left my face. “I think you do. She has to die, Persephone, for Victor to truly comprehend the depths of our despair. Together we will ensure that his wedding ends in tragedy. Then and only then we will be waiting with his final embrace.”

  Victor’s wedding would end in tragedy, but it would not be at the creature’s hand. I had another part in mind for him to play—one he would never see coming. His usefulness to me had reached its end, and I had grown tired of his infantile need to control me. I had not escaped one master to serve another.

  “Yes,” I said through clenched teeth. “Together.”

  It remained early enough in the night that the inn was still filled with patrons, who mostly lingered at the bar. Word of the murders had yet to reach the inn, though I knew by the following morning it would be the talk of the city.

  The barman was waiting for me with a message when I returned. “Someone was looking for you earlier, Miss. He was quite insistent.”

  “Did he give you a name?”

  “Fellow by the name of Gerhardt, it was,” the man replied, polishing a bottle. “He left not long after.”

  Gerhardt must have come here to check and make sure I was safe, I thought. The sight of the creature must have unsettled him, and with good reason. I hurried up the stairs, unable to shake the memory of the fear in the child’s face when the creature murdered her parents. What have I become? I wondered. The creature’s actions repulsed me, and yet they had been carried out at my behest, to further my designs. In a way, I was just as responsible for their deaths. And I planned to do worse still.

  I froze at the top of the stairs. The door to my room had been left open.

  When I went inside my room, the journal was gone.

  Chapter Eighteen

  A crowd had gathered outside the villagers’ hut by morning, whispering and murmuring amongst themselves as the authorities investigated the crime. I watched the scene unfold for several minutes as part of the throng, not far from where I stood mere hours earlier. The villagers’ hushed voices were rife with panic. Their worst fears had been realized. The stories once taken for gossip were now revealed as truth. No one could turn a blind eye to this.