Kenneth Oppel - Such Wicked Intent

Returning, I rubbed at my face and neck, anticipating bruises, but there were none. When I stretched, there was no soreness in my ribs and stomach, either. Injuries in the spirit world, it seemed, did not cross over.

I glanced over at Henry and Elizabeth, and an uncomfortable silence stretched out as the three of us avoided one another’s eyes.

“It seems,” I said after a while, “that we got a little carried away.”

Henry scoffed.

“I’d just like to remind you, Henry Clerval, that you punched me in the face during a fencing match.”

“You told me to invent my own rules.”

“You two were both brutes,” Elizabeth murmured. “You especially, Victor.”

“And what about you?” I countered. “You had a sword pointed at my heart!”

“Only to stop you from killing Henry!”

“You didn’t really mean to stab me, did you?” Henry asked.

“Of course not,” I said, hoping my uncertainty didn’t stain my voice.

“You were both completely out of control,” Elizabeth said.

“Strange,” I said, “I didn’t see you objecting. In fact, you seemed quite thrilled.”

Her only reply was an impatient sigh, but I knew I was right. She’d observed our duel with the tense anticipation of a wild animal watching the brawl of prospective mates.

This brought me up short. Was that what it had been? Had Henry and I been displaying for her, so she could choose the finer specimen? The very idea made me indignant. Surely I didn’t need to prove myself, especially alongside Henry? It was unthinkable that Elizabeth could harbor romantic feelings for him. In all the years he’d been our beloved friend, he’d been bookish and nervy and faintly ridiculous. Elizabeth had never shown the slightest amorous interest in him-to my eye, anyway, which, I had to admit, was often dim to such matters. I’d been virtually blind to her love for my own twin.

My certainty began to crumble. Henry was very fine with words, and Elizabeth prized that. And I’d not forgotten his aura of paternal strength when holding the mud creature. Then there had been the speed and hardness of his newly trained knuckles against my body. I looked at him anew. Could he truly be my rival?

“Are you really taking boxing lessons?”

He nodded. “After our encounter with Julius Polidori, I thought it wise to learn how to defend myself without a sword.”

“You’re already skilled,” I said grudgingly.

He raised his fists. “Shall we spar again?” He gave a shy laugh, and for a moment he was the old Henry again. But when we shook hands, his grip was firmer than I remembered, and I wondered if it would truly be so easy to forgive the words and blows we’d exchanged.

“I’ll not go inside again,” Elizabeth said. “The place makes all of us mad, bad and dangerous to know. I shudder to think what we might do next. Let’s all of us make a pledge. Until the baby’s grown and ready to be reunited with Konrad’s spirit, none of us will go inside again.”

With reluctance Henry nodded. “I think that’s for the best.”

“Victor?” Elizabeth said.

“I don’t think it’s fair to Konrad,” I objected. “You know how erratically time passes there. You two do as you wish, but I’ll go in from time to time, to give him the latest news and keep him company, just so he doesn’t despair.”

Elizabeth looked at me, thoroughly unconvinced. “How noble of you, Victor.”

That night as I slept, I dreamed I was in my room, having just woken. The chambermaid had already been and had pulled open my curtains and left me fresh water, and had opened the window, for it was a fine, fragrantly warm day.

As I lay back with a contented sigh, hands folded behind my head, I noticed a sparrow perched atop my bedpost. I watched it. It watched me. Suddenly I was frightened of it, what it might do. Then it darted toward me and flew right under the collar of my nightshirt. I felt its busy compact shape settle just below my left collarbone. It stayed very still, and so did I, for its tiny claws were sharp against my bare flesh, and I knew that if I moved or tried to grab the bird, it would struggle and its beak would peck and its claws would clench.

I lay frozen, not knowing what to do, this little sparrow at my breast like a second heart.

It was very early when I woke-my clock said five in the morning-yet I felt completely rested. More than that, a tremendous sense of well-being coursed through me. I clenched my right hand tightly. Not even a ghost of pain lingered in my missing fingers.

I wanted to be up. I dragged my nightshirt off, and a small shadow darted across my chest and disappeared round my back. Hardly daring to breathe, I sat very still.

There is one on me.

It must have clung to me unnoticed when we returned last night. Unease gusted across my mind but was quickly overwhelmed by a blaze of excitement.

Hurriedly I dressed and made my way to the west sitting room, which Father had stocked as our temporary library. I lit a lamp and took down the thickest, most obscure tome from the shelf.

I opened it at random and peered down at the page of tiny script. Greek, by far my weakest language. Leaning close, I touched the text with my fingers. Within my calm and ordered mind, line after line translated itself for me, telling me of the exploits of the great hero Odysseus, returning home from the Trojan War.

I withdrew my hand and sat back, breathing quickly. It was incredible! It was just like in the spirit world, when the butterfly had helped me in the Dark Library. Restlessly I closed the book and stood, pacing. I could not stop smiling. The spirit sharpened my mind. It healed my hand. What else might it do for me?

Impulsively I made my way down the grand staircase and let myself out into the courtyard. The air was pungent with the earthy smells of nighttime.

Standing still was impossible. I ran out of the courtyard and down the curving drive. As I turned onto the lake road, my energy was boundless. My strides lengthened, knees lifted high, arms knifing the air. The sky was gaining color. The road stretched out ahead of me, and I never wanted it to end. My breath was deep and tireless. I could go forever.

I lost track of how long I ran, but when I stopped, I realized I’d already reached the village of Bellerive, a good ten-minute trip by horse and cart! The sun cleared the eastern peaks, and light glittered across the surface of Lake Geneva. I began laughing with sheer joy.

With this spirit upon me, I was invincible.

Returning to the chateau, I stopped short at the entrance to the courtyard, for I recognized the low murmur of voices from within. I peeked around the stone wall and saw Elizabeth and Henry taking a stroll together.

My exhilaration cooled. Had Henry noticed she was an early riser and come down hoping for a few moments alone with her? I’d hardly forgotten the looks she’d bestowed on him the night before, and the way she’d rushed to his side during our duel. Could Henry actually think he had a chance at winning her?

As I watched, he passed her a folded piece of paper and said something I couldn’t hear. Elizabeth nodded and put it into her pocket, and then Henry went inside.

I waited until Elizabeth too went inside before entering the courtyard. My body had a keen appetite for breakfast, and my heart felt an altogether different kind of hunger.

“There’s something we need to discuss,” I said later, as the three of us walked toward the cottage with our picnic hamper, to check on our mud creation.

“What’s that?” Henry asked.

All morning I’d detected a slight coolness from him. No doubt he was still wary of me after our duel. And Elizabeth too had seemed more reserved than usual during breakfast and our shortened lessons with Father.