Kenneth Oppel - Such Wicked Intent

Henry and I watched from the blanket, finishing our own meals. I had little appetite but forced myself to finish my cold breast of chicken. Dr. Lesage had told me I’d lost weight. He’d asked if I was taking too much laudanum, and I’d shown him the bottle he’d prescribed, completely untouched. He’d said he could find nothing bodily wrong with me and told me the Italian sun would do wonders for my constitution. I’d thanked him and, after he’d departed, unlocked my desk drawer. With shaking hands I’d opened two flasks and let the spirits back upon me.

Sprawling on the picnic blanket with Henry now, I studied the child, my creation, carefully. Its appearance certainly reminded me of my twin. But while my brother Konrad and I had a lean frame, this new Konrad seemed built of stronger stuff. Even though its body was that of a nine- or ten-year-old, I’d been surprised, when I’d first seen it today, at the firmness of his chest and arms and thighs. Even its stomach seemed taut with growing muscle.

I looked over at Henry, chewing meditatively on a bread roll while watching Elizabeth across the glade.

“You’ve been writing her love poetry,” I said casually.

He swallowed in surprise, and coughed. “Did she tell you that?”

I shook my head. “I overheard her reading it. ‘She walks in beauty like the night.’

“She was reading it aloud?” he asked, trying not to look pleased.

“On the dock by moonlight. It’s a very nice piece.”

He eyed me uncertainly. I knew he wanted to ask how we’d both found ourselves together at night, but he wouldn’t give me the satisfaction. Instead he asked, “Why are you telling me this, Victor?”

“She didn’t think it was written about her. But it seemed perfectly obvious to me.”

He said nothing.

“I didn’t know you entertained hopes of winning her. You once told me you felt like a feeble moth around her flame.”

“Moths dream of being butterflies too,” he said.

“I wish I had your gift with words, Henry.”

“You can’t have everything.” He sniffed. “Or maybe you can. Another trip to the spirit world and you can come out spewing sonnets.”

I chuckled. “You’ve had your own gift from the spirit world, I think. It’s changed you, my friend. You’re fearless now!”

“It merely showed me what I might be, and what I needn’t be. Timid. Shy. Unattractive.”

When he said this last, he looked almost abashed, the old Henry, but then he met my eye boldly once more.

“I’ve grown up with her too, you know, and never even dared to think she might find me appealing. That she might love me. Why not? Why shouldn’t I have my chance to win her?”

“Don’t you feel disloyal to Konrad?”

“Did you, when he was languishing?”

I ignored his well-aimed barb. “I’m just trying to spare you hurt. Her love for Konrad is like the foundation of the earth.”

“The earth sometimes shifts.”

I wondered if Elizabeth had told him of Konrad’s request to have a body made for Analiese.

“Henry, listen to me. You have no hope of winning her. Konrad’s coming back.”

“And then going away again, thanks to you,” he said, his blue eyes more piercing than I’d ever known.

“Ah. So that is your plan.”

Calmly he shook his head. “No. That was your plan, remember?”

I mimed astonishment. “Henry, my plan was to send him away so he could change his identity and return to us!”

“But in his absence you hope to win her. The plan bears your trademark genius, Victor. After all, anything could happen during Konrad’s absence. He might fall in love with some beautiful Greek princess. Or Elizabeth, in her loneliness, might learn to appreciate the charms of another suitor. It’s a fine plan. And it benefits me equally. Elizabeth can make her own choice.”

“Well, well,” I said. “What do you reckon your chances are?”

“Just watch me,” he said.

And then we spoke no more, because Elizabeth, smiling and lightly perspiring, returned hand in hand with a very tired-looking child.

“I think the running’s done him good,” she said. “Did you see how sure he is on his feet?”

“Remarkable,” said Henry.

“He’ll be ready in time,” Elizabeth said excitedly. “He seems to grow at least three years overnight. At this rate he’ll be ready the night after next.”

In the past few days I’d hardly given a thought to the actual mechanics of returning Konrad’s body to the spirit world. But I now focused my spirit-sharpened mind upon the task, and a plan swiftly laid itself out before me.

“In two nights,” I said, “we’ll bring him inside the house…”

“Where?” Elizabeth wanted to know. “His bedroom?”

“Certainly not,” I said. “The dungeon.”

I wasn’t surprised by Elizabeth’s frown of displeasure.

“Just in case he makes noises, we won’t be heard.”

“He’s not likely to make any noise unless frightened,” Henry said.

I looked at the child’s strangely impassive face. How much of what we said did it actually understand? “We’ll have to administer the potion to it, and it might not like that. What if it fights?”

“He’ll do whatever I ask him to do,” Elizabeth said.

“Maybe. But the dungeon’s the only place for it. Remember, we’ve got to keep Konrad hidden until we have a chance to tell Father and Mother. We can’t have the servants seeing him. And we’ll need to make preparations to speed him off to Greece.”

“Surely he could come to Italy with us, though!” said Elizabeth.

Henry and I exchanged a look.

I said, “I still think it’s better if he’s properly separated from us-to avoid any suspicion.”

“How will you tell your father what we’ve done?” asked Henry.

“Or your mother,” added Elizabeth. “I worry her health isn’t strong enough to endure such a shock.”

I’d worried about the same thing. In her present weakened state, if Konrad appeared before her, would she think she’d gone mad?

“We’ll tell Father first and let him advise us. But you two,” I added, “are wordsmiths. Please, I need you to start scripting some calming speech to tell Father what we’ve done.”

Henry laughed nervously. “I don’t think such a speech has ever been written.”

“Yours will be the first, then,” I said. “I’ve no doubt you can do it. The day after tomorrow I’ll place the elixir and spirit clock in the dungeon, and all will be ready.”

“And we must pick a talisman for Konrad,” Elizabeth said.

“Of course,” I said.

At that moment a gray rabbit flashed across the glade, and the child’s eyes locked on to it with a hunter’s speed. In a second the child was up and after it, running for the forest.

I launched myself in pursuit, for I was, as always, afraid of someone spotting us. The child’s speed was amazing, and when I entered the trees, I couldn’t see it anywhere. Panicked, I turned in a full circle and then saw it, crouched low and absolutely still, eyes fixed intently on the rabbit witlessly nibbling in the distance.

I approached the child from behind. Before my hand even touched its shoulder, its head jerked round, and its face was not Konrad’s but that same fierce and brutal mask I’d seen the day before-only larger and stronger. It all happened incredibly quickly. Its mouth opened, faster and wider than seemed natural, revealing teeth, including one serrated into four sharp points. When the jaws clamped down on my hand, the pain was enough to bring a curse to my lips.

“Did he bite you?” Elizabeth asked in surprise, hurrying over.

“Yes, he bit me!” I looked at the teeth marks on my flesh, two matching curves of short dashes, except for four little points, each of which welled with a tiny drop of blood.