Kenneth Oppel - Such Wicked Intent

“This used to be his room,” I whisper. “Wilhelm Frankenstein’s!”

“Make it go back to normal,” she says, sounding scared for the first time.

“If you concentrate, it’ll return to its present age. You have the power to do it too.”

I take a breath, focusing my gaze on the place where my bed should be. From the corner of my eye I see the entire room shimmer and begin to reshape itself. And for just a moment I see, set within the wall, a strange cupboard containing a book-and then it’s gone and is nothing but brick and plaster. Suddenly my bed is where it ought to be, and when I look about the room, it is altogether mine again.

Elizabeth seems confused, and moves toward my bed.

“You’re on the chair, remember,” I tell her, and take her hand to guide her.

The effect is instant. It’s the first time I’ve touched her in this world, and the simple contact of her skin against mine sends an urgent heat coursing through my entire body. I stare down at my hand, her hand, breathing hard. My spirit world heart thrashes within my chest like a firefly trapped in a jar. I feel weak, slightly sick-and completely, hypnotically helpless to the desire that grips me. I swallow and look up at Elizabeth and know from her gaze that she is possessed by the same sensation.

“This is a dream,” she says.

I shake my head. “No dream.”

“I am dreaming.”

In one step I am against her, my hand in her hair. Her arms lift and encircle me, her fingers pulling hard against my neck, urging me to her. Our mouths meet hungrily, and it’s as though some spectral current has been completed, and there is nothing more than this moment, all sensation, every nerve in my body attentive to her.

But our frenzy is interrupted by the ever more insistent pattering of the spirit clock in my pocket, and a real weakness seeps through me. Not a pleasurable, giddy one this time but true exhaustion and breathlessness.

“We must get back,” I pant, forcing myself away from her, and I see the look of disappointment and anger in her face. Once more she draws closer to me.

“Our bodies need us,” I say, pushing her into the chair. “Take hold of your bracelet. Hurry!”

Breathless, I tug my ring free, clench it tight in one hand, the spirit clock in the other, and throw myself onto the bed, my limbs weirdly moving of their own volition to shape this spectral body to my real one.

We woke gasping at the same moment. Henry paced between us anxiously, looking at his stopwatch.

“Slightly over a minute this time!” he said. “What kept you?”

“I stretched time a little.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed and faced Elizabeth. “Tell me what you saw!”

“No!” commanded Henry. “Say nothing, either of you!” From my desk he took quills and paper and handed them to us. “Remember our plan. Write down what happened, in as much detail as you can. Events, dialogue. Then I’ll read them.”

I exhaled. “Yes, of course. I was forgetting.”

As I scribbled out my account, I kept glancing over at Elizabeth, wondering if she’d truly had the same experiences as me-right up to the moment before we’d left the spirit world. I wrote and wrote and heard the church bells toll the half hour. As I neared the end of my account, I hesitated and decided to leave out the passionate embrace Elizabeth and I had shared. If it had all merely been a dream, I’d only embarrass myself, and if it were true, I would mortify Elizabeth. Surely she’d omit it. I looked up and saw her watching me. We’d finished at the same time, and we silently handed our sheets to Henry.

Waiting as he read both our accounts was excruciating. Elizabeth’s fingertips traced the lace embroidery of her hem. I folded my maimed hand within my whole one, wishing I could hide it away forever, wishing I could obliterate the throbbing pain that dogged me. We avoided each other’s gaze, and then, when we’d run out of nooks and crannies to focus on, our eyes finally met.

Your tongue touched mine, I thought, staring at her. And then I had to look away, for my cheeks burned, and the memory of our intimacy was like a blaring presence in the room.

Henry was now making low sounds in his throat as he looked between our accounts.

“For heaven’s sake!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “You must be done reading our dreams by now.”

Henry looked over, pale in the candlelight. “It seems,” he said, “you’ve had virtually the same dream.”

I leapt to my feet, exultant. “No dream! The exact same experience!”

“Only the very endings differ slightly,” said Henry, scratching at his hair. “Elizabeth, you say that just before you exited, Victor seemed… confused?”

I looked at her in surprise, then amusement.

“Just before we returned, yes,” she murmured. “Rambling a bit, possibly delusional.”

Henry turned to me. “Victor, you have no recollection of this?”

I looked at Elizabeth, a smile dormant on my lips. “It’s possible. Things can get a bit hazy after the spirit clock rings. The house tends to shift. But what we experienced was real, every bit of it. Do you believe now?”

“Of course. And you must believe that there’s a world beyond ours.”

“Certainly.”

“And that it’s filled with spirits and angels and devils, and could only be governed by an all-powerful God.”

“Ah. Let’s just say I believe it’s a world filled with wonders, and one I plan to visit many more times.”

“Is that wise?” Henry asked.

Elizabeth said nothing for a moment, then, “I won’t go again.”

Aghast, I stared at her. “What do you mean? You saw him.”

She put her face in her hands. “But I don’t know if it was more solace or torment. He could barely look at us. I couldn’t even touch him. He’s gone from us, Victor. In time he’ll be gathered and taken to his final home.”

“I mean to bring him back,” I said quietly.

Silence boiled through the room like a thundercloud.

Elizabeth was shaking her head. “We can’t bring him back, Victor.”

“I don’t accept that. And you shouldn’t either. Two days ago you didn’t believe a door could be opened to the spirit world. We’ve opened it. We’ve passed through. Why can’t Konrad pass out?”

She was trembling. To my surprise Henry lifted a blanket from my bed and draped it over her shoulders, kneeling beside her. “You’re exhausted by all this.”

“Don’t play nursemaid, Henry,” I said impatiently. “She’s as strong as me, and you don’t see me traumatized.”

At this Elizabeth stood, threw off her blanket, and glared at me. “I should’ve known this was your intent all along. Just when I think your egotism has found its limit, you amaze me afresh. Yes, we’ve passed into the realm of the dead-a place we likely shouldn’t have-and yes, we saw Konrad’s spirit. But do you actually think you have any authority in that place?”

“We’ll see.”

“No. We will not see. Only God resurrects people, Victor, and, as startling as this might be to you, you are not God!”

“I never said I was,” I retorted. “You see, this is exactly my point. You think only your God has the power to govern these worlds. All I’m doing is raising a question: Might we as well?”

She swallowed. “I feel sickened by all this. It was a mistake.”

“What about Konrad? I thought you loved-”

“Yes, and that’s precisely why I can’t bear it again. It’s torture, Victor, for him and me. I vowed to let him go.” More quietly she said, “Nothing good can come of it. I won’t go again.”

I took a moment to marshal my thoughts. I nodded. “I understand. If this is something I have to do alone, so be it. All I know is that Wilhelm Frankenstein somehow found a way into the spirit world, and who knows what else he found? He might’ve made all sorts of incredible discoveries. Maybe he even knew how to bring the dead back to life. If he did, there must be some record of it.”