Kenneth Oppel - Such Wicked Intent

“Why’re you staring at me?” he asks.

Because you’re transformed, I think. But instead I say, “How do you feel?”

His nostrils flare and he smiles. “Fine.”

He opens his hand and regards his talisman-a bit of folded paper. An odd choice, I think, and a mysterious one, for he wouldn’t show us what was written on it. He slips it into his pocket, and when he stands, he stands taller.

I look over at Elizabeth in my armchair, radiant with beauty. As she pulls her hair bracelet over her slender wrist, she looks at Henry, surprised and intrigued-and with a sting I know that she too has noticed his change. Her hazel eyes swing over to me, appraising, then slide away.

The faint ticking in my hand draws my eye to the spirit watch, and I see the fetal sparrow limb jerk slightly to the right. Outside my window the eerie white mist coils and moans, and the glass shudders. Henry looks over sharply.

“This is the evil spirit?” he asks.

“Don’t be afraid. It can’t come in,” I say.

“I’m not afraid,” he says, so calmly I believe him.

“Good,” I say, but I’m not at all sure I’m happy with this new, more confident Henry.

We leave my bedchamber, and as we walk down the hallway, I notice that Elizabeth lets Henry walk between us, as if she’s trying to keep me at a distance. Is she afraid we might touch and become overwhelmed once more? But any pleasure this thought gives me is tempered with jealous anger. I don’t want her to be able to control her attraction to me here. I smile to myself. We will see how long she can resist me.

All around us the house seems to pulse, remembering itself. As we make our way down the hallway, we check for Konrad and finally find him in the library. Analiese is with him, and they sit side by side at a table, their heads practically touching as they look over a book. Her fingers stroke absently at her earlobe. I sneak a glance at Elizabeth and see an expression I’ve never before seen on her face-undisguised jealousy.

And then Konrad squints and turns toward us, a hand shielding his eyes.

“You’re back!” he calls out. “And, Henry? Is that you?”

“It is,” our blond friend says.

Konrad stands, takes an eager step toward us, forgetting for a moment our searing heat that keeps him at a distance of some five feet. “I’d clasp hands with you if I could,” he says. He gives a chuckle and adds, “I must say, Henry, I’m amazed that Victor bullied you into coming.”

“I didn’t need so much bullying,” Henry replies amicably, but with an uncharacteristic firmness. “I wanted to see you, Konrad, and this place for myself.”

“Hello, Konrad,” says Elizabeth.

“Hello,” he returns, and then almost guiltily adds, “I’ve been teaching Analiese to read.”

“How wonderful,” says Elizabeth with a smile so sincere, it’s almost frightening. “Is he a good teacher, Analiese?”

“Very good, miss. No one ever taught me my letters, and he’s very patient with me.”

“Nonsense, you’re learning splendidly,” Konrad says. “And it passes the time. It seems an age since you were last here.”

Swiftly my eyes move about the room, and I see his saber resting atop a shelf of books.

“You’ve been safe?” I ask him.

He nods and adds quietly, “But the sounds are getting more frequent.”

“Sounds?” asks Henry, looking at me. “You didn’t mention anything about strange sounds.” His expression is somewhat accusing, though nowhere near as alarmed as I’d expected.

“Just a rather noisy houseguest,” I say lightly.

“Where?” he asks.

“No one knows, sir,” says Analiese.

“Look, butterflies!” Elizabeth says, head tilted up.

I turn and see three of them. They flit among us expectantly. Henry inhales sharply when one lands upon his arm, and watches, enthralled, as the creature’s wings begin to radiate color.

“Incredible,” he murmurs as it flutters away.

One grazes Elizabeth’s hair, glowing amber, and then moves on.

The third one circles over me and then settles on my shoulder. At the exact moment of contact, I feel my mind sharpen.

“Yours doesn’t fly away,” Henry says, with what I think is a hint of envy.

“I’m naturally attractive,” I say, and then turn to my brother. “I was hoping I might enlist your help.”

Konrad squints over at me, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Even separated by death, my twin knows me well. “What is it you’re planning, Victor?”

I take a breath. The butterfly still sits on my shoulder, and somehow its mere presence speeds my mind, as though I can see deeper into the future. “I’m planning on bringing you back to us.”

A small gasp comes from Analiese. Konrad sinks back down in his chair, head bent.

“Victor, don’t-”

“Please, just listen-”

“Victor!” he shouts, looking up angrily. “This isn’t fair. I was resigned to my fate. And then, seeing you…” His gaze strays to Elizabeth and remains so long that he winces, a hand flying up to cover his eyes. “I’m not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse. I see your lives, blazing from you like you’re gods! But I can’t share that light. I can’t even touch you!”

“Soon,” I tell him.

“No. This is like dangling a rope to a drowning man who can’t quite reach it. It’s too cruel. We’ve chased after mirages before, Victor. Don’t make me any more promises.”

“I have nothing to promise,” I tell him. “But you have nothing to lose.”

This silences him for a moment, and once more I see his eyes stray to Elizabeth, his heart’s desire.

“So what exactly is this plan of yours?” he asks.

“It begins,” I tell him, “in the Dark Library.”

Elizabeth, Henry, and I sit at the same table where we once pored over alchemical tomes, trying to find a miraculous cure for Konrad. Only, this time he is with us, at a far table where our heat and light will not blind and sear him.

Analiese is not here. She said she’d be of no help to us, as she can’t read. But I sense she’s afraid, and perhaps disapproving. When I opened the secret panel to the staircase, she drew back and said she never knew such a place existed. She is even more pious than Elizabeth.

Within the Dark Library the shelves sag under the weight of books. Every volume that ever resided here is now present, though not all are visible at first. The very oldest ones-those that weren’t here in my time, or perhaps even my father’s-are hidden at first. But stare long and hard at the shelves, and phantom tomes shimmer before your eyes. Touch them, and they gain substance. I show Elizabeth and Henry how to see through layers of time, and together we gather armloads of books and pile them high.

“This will be a great deal of work,” says Henry, blowing air from his cheeks. “We can’t achieve it all in one visit.”

“We’ll see,” I say, drawing the spirit clock from my pocket.

As if anticipating my plan, the butterfly, which for some reason has refused to leave my shoulder, flutters down to my hand.

“What are you doing?” Henry asks.

With my finger I touch the glass above the fetal sparrow leg. I close my eyes, focusing my mind’s energy into a column of power, as dark and thick as ink.

Slower…

I lift the clock to my ear.

Tick… tick… tick.

… and yet slower still…

Tiiickkk… Tiiiiiickkkkkk…

And then a long silence in which I count many beats of my own heart before the clock gives another languorous tick.

“Hah!” I cry exultantly, holding it out to Elizabeth. “I’ve slowed it even more than last time. It scarcely moves now!”

“How is this possible?” Henry demands, taking the clock from Elizabeth and listening.