Kenneth Oppel - Such Wicked Intent

“I’ll be quick,” she promises.

I watch as my hand, which is no longer my hand, reaches for the flask of spirit world elixir. I feel my fingers grasp it, and then intentionally release. The flask falls to the floor and shatters. There is little fluid left, and even as my body drops to its knees and makes a show of trying to wipe the liquid furiously back into the flask, the elixir is quickly absorbed into the wood and its cracks. Not a single drop remains.

Watching this scene from the spirit world, I’m aware of making a low whine, like a kicked dog.

“I… I’m so sorry,” the false me says, looking up at Elizabeth’s stricken face.

“It’s for the best,” Henry says, putting a hand on her shoulder. She shrugs it off.

“Did you do that on purpose, Victor?” she demands.

“Of course not,” I reply, amazed at the sincerity in my voice. “I’m so sorry, Elizabeth. I’m still weakened-”

— someone is shouting my name, and I realize it’s not in the real world but here in this spirit one. I open my eyes to see Konrad standing over me, brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong? I heard shouting!” he asks.

I look up at my brother, so overjoyed to see him that for a moment I’m speechless.

“Victor, what’s the matter?” he demands, and then frowns. “Your light. It’s gone altogether!”

“He stole my body,” I rasp.

“Who?”

“Wilhelm Frankenstein. He stole it. I’m trapped! Trapped here!”

Speaking the brutal truth aloud, panic grips me again in its vise and tightens fast. I pound my fists against my temples. I’m a bird in a house, my eyes flitting everywhere, unable to focus.

“There’s no more elixir!” I rant. “He broke the bottle. There’s no more! There’s no hope of rescue! None!”

“Victor!” my twin says. “Calm down.”

He reaches out his hand, pulls me to my feet-and at his touch, this first touch between us in months, a wonderful stillness fills me. I look at him, then embrace him, squeezing with all my might. There is such comfort in this simple physical contact that I never want to let go. But finally I pull back and behold him. We are, at last, properly reunited.

“Tell me everything,” he says. “Talk sense.”

With all the calm I can muster, I explain.

“It was him all along,” Konrad murmurs. “Elizabeth was right. Analiese was keeping a secret.”

“I’m such a fool,” I say. “When that mist spirit broke in and grabbed her, I saw something change in her, but I thought it was just another mystery of the spirit world.”

“He’s been waiting for three hundred years,” Konrad says. “The message from your spirit board-it was from him, trying to lure you inside!”

“Why was he never gathered?” I ask uneasily. “How can he still be here after so many years?”

“Maybe because he was separated from his own body.”

I shudder. “He’s inside my body now.”

“And you can truly see through his eyes?”

“Only when mine are closed.”

What torment to watch someone else live my life. And when my body dies, what will happen to me then? Will I wait here forever and ever, abandoned, like Wilhelm Frankenstein?

Another wail emanates from beneath us, and this time it is no primal cry; it has a shape and rhythm that suggests language. A slight tremor passes through the very bones of the house. The black butterflies that have been swirling about the ceiling now gather into a thundercloud and scud swiftly into the hallway.

I lick my lips and look nervously at Konrad, and together we follow them. I see them disappearing into the library, joined by several other converging torrents. When we cautiously enter, we see the last of them slipping through the gaps in the secret doorway.

“Before your light disappeared,” Konrad asks, “did butterflies feed on you?”

“A great many.”

He needs say no more. We both know what has happened. The last of my siphoned life force has already been fed to the pit god-and it is fully awake, and moving. Again from beneath the house comes the sound of earth shifting, something hard striking stone.

We run to the secret door, open it, and peer down. Echoing up to us through the vaulted galleries comes the unmistakable sound of a heavy footfall. It shakes the house.

“Dear God,” says Konrad, closing the door.

“Wait, wait!” I say. “We need a place to hide!”

I reopen the door and run down the stairs toward the Dark Library.

“Victor!” he cries out. “What’re you doing!”

“I need a key!”

Inside the library I scan the sagging shelves, looking, looking, until I find it. The red metal book that I plucked from the fire. I snatch it and vault back up the stairs. Behind me I can hear the sound of footfalls, like the clopping of a horse’s hooves. Breathless, I rejoin Konrad and slam the door behind me, checking to make sure the secret latch is secured.

“What did you get?” my brother demands in bewilderment.

I open the metal book and take out the star-shaped key.

“The chapel ceiling?” he says, remembering the tale we told him.

“That thing might not know about it.”

Together we grab a table and push it against the door, and then heave a small bureau atop it.

“Will this do any good?” Konrad asks.

My laugh croaks from my fear-parched mouth. “I doubt it.”

I look at all the weapons he’s assembled, and at once we both arm ourselves with everything we can-crossbows, quivers of bolts, swords, daggers. The mere weight of all this military metal gives me some comfort, but my hands and knees are shaking.

“We can fight this thing,” I say. “My light might be gone, but my body’s still alive in the real world. Surely that gives me some power here.”

Konrad nods vigorously. “Absolutely. This thing was destroyed once before, and we can destroy it again.”

A footfall like an anvil blow shakes the floor. Books jump from the shelves.

“It’s coming,” I gasp.

We flee the library, careening down the chateau’s grand staircase and along the hallway to the chapel. Upstairs, heavy footfalls shake the ceiling. Outside, the wind howls furiously and pounds at the windows so hard that I’m sure they will explode.

“Within and without,” Konrad says as he helps me hurriedly lower the chandelier.

“Has it occurred to you,” I say as we clamber onto the wooden arms and proceed to haul ourselves up, “that our house is a bit gloomy?”

We reach the ceiling and tie off. I insert the star-shaped key, and then pull open the hatch. We scramble inside and pull the door shut behind us.

“This was good thinking,” whispers Konrad, lighting a candle. “If it’s truly a demon, it won’t dare come into a chapel.”

“You really think so?” I ask.

“Well, it’s a nice thought.”

“I was actually just thinking it was a mistake. If we’re discovered, we have no means of escape.”

“We’ll fight all the harder, then,” Konrad says, winding back the string of his crossbow.

I do the same, and for a moment we work in silence, spreading out all our weapons as the heavy footfalls move about the house overhead.

“She was Wilhelm Frankenstein all along,” murmurs Konrad to himself. “I can’t believe I thought her so… attractive.”

“Well, she looked, um, very beautiful.”

“I’m more disturbed than I can say.” He shudders, then asks, “What’s happening in the real world?”

I take a breath, close my eyes, and***

– “It doesn’t matter,” Elizabeth says to my imposter. “I can still enter to say good-bye to Konrad. There’s this, remember.”

From her pocket she takes the small brown bottle of the elixir she siphoned from the main flask. In the spirit world my heart beats hard. In my panic I forgot about Elizabeth’s private store. And Wilhelm Frankenstein knows nothing of this. He’s silent, but I feel his tension in my real-world body.