Such Wicked Intent (8 page)

“You heard me playing the piano.”

“If you punch the wall, is there pain?”

“Yes. I’ve tried.”

“Do you sleep?”

“Victor, enough,” Elizabeth says.

“I don’t seem to, no,” Konrad replies.

“And are you hungry?”

“Not thirsty, either. Victor, am I to be another scientific experiment of yours?” He gives a wry smile, and I chuckle apologetically.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that there are so many things to discover here.”

“For me too,” my brother says. “How is it possible you’re here?”

“We got your message and came to find you,” I say.

His confusion is obvious. “My message?”

“‘Come raise me.’ That’s what you said, over and over again.”

“Victor built a spirit board to speak with the dead,” Elizabeth explains. “You didn’t hear him calling out to you?”

Konrad looks shaken. “There was a moment—I don’t know how long ago—when I felt you so strongly, as though you were somewhere in the house. And I looked for you, and called out, but heard no reply. I thought I must just be hallucinating. But I don’t remember saying ‘Come raise me.’”

“Well, maybe it doesn’t need speaking aloud,” I reply. “Maybe your wishes alone conveyed themselves to our world.”

But Elizabeth looks uneasy. “Who else is here?”

“There’s a girl our age called Analiese. She was a servant in the household and died of fever long before we were born. When I was wandering the house, I met her in the kitchen. She was very kind to me, as kind as anyone can be when they’re telling you you’re actually dead.”

“Where is she?” Elizabeth wants to know.

“She often seems to prefer the servants’ quarters.” He gives a small smile. “I think she feels she’s being too familiar, coming
upstairs to speak with me, though God knows I welcome her company.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth says a bit stiffly, “I can imagine it must be terribly lonely for you. So you two are the only ones here?”

Konrad hesitates a moment. “I don’t know. Sometimes I hear sounds, deep in the house. Like someone slumbering fitfully.”

“Well, I’d like to meet this Analiese,” Elizabeth says. “Maybe she can explain why you’re here.”

“She already has. She says everyone who dies in the house comes to the house for a time.”

“I simply don’t understand it,” says Elizabeth. “Your soul ought to have gone straight to heaven—or at least purgatory.”

“Unless this house is purgatory,” Konrad replies.

“Isn’t it obvious,” I say with an impatient laugh, “that everything is different from what you’ve been taught by the Church?”

“No, it isn’t,” says Elizabeth.

Konrad sighs. “Things are very strange here.” He turns to the windows and the impenetrable fog beyond. “I feel so trapped.”

My eyes remain fixed on the fog, watching its slow, mesmerizing swirl.

I begin walking toward it. “You should open a window,” I say.

“No, don’t!” he shouts, and his urgency stops me in my tracks.

I laugh. “How can it hurt to open a window?”

“One of the first things Analiese told me was
never
to open the windows or doors.”

“Why ever not?” Elizabeth wants to know.

“Because, miss, there’s an evil spirit outside who wants to enter.”

I whirl round to see a young woman, no older than me, standing in the doorway, one hand shielding her face from our glare.

“Are you Analiese?” I ask.

“I am, sir. And you must be Mr. Konrad’s brother. He told me you’d been, and I could scarce believe it—the living visiting the world of the dead.”

She is beautiful, I see immediately, with long plaited hair so blond it is almost white, and eyes of a most arresting blue. Her porcelain skin bears a bewitching beauty spot on one cheek. She wears a simple black dress—her best, no doubt—that, though modest, cannot conceal her very pleasing figure.

“What do you mean, ‘an evil spirit’?” Elizabeth asks.

As if in answer the fog outside the windows intensifies and thumps menacingly against the glass, so hard that the panes actually rattle.

I hear Analiese gasp, and see her take a step back.

Once more the fog pounds at the glass like an angry fist, and I realize I am not frightened but strangely expectant, wondering:

What will happen if the glass breaks?

But the glass does not break, and I feel a curious disappointment when the windows stop their shaking and the fog disperses slightly, though nowhere near enough to allow any view.

“It has intent, no question,” says Elizabeth, not fearfully but with the same fascination I myself feel.

“It’s only what I was told, miss,” Analiese says, eyes averted humbly. “When I died and came here, there was only one other person in the house. She was one of the ladies of the house, and she was the one who told me about the devilish
spirit and how we mustn’t let it in, lest we be tempted.”

“It’s like some great coiled serpent,” Konrad says uneasily, “hungry and waiting.”

Analiese continues, “And the lady said we must bide our time here, until we are gathered.”

“Gathered?” I say.

“Yes, sir. I saw it happen to her, not long after. A beautiful winged light, even brighter than yours, and musical, entered the house and wrapped itself around her, and she was gone.”

“Angels!” says Elizabeth, looking at me triumphantly.

Analiese smiles happily. “I think so too, miss! And I can only hope that my turn will come before long.”

At that moment two large black butterflies flutter into view, circling high over Elizabeth and me.

“What are they?” I ask Analiese.

“Oh, they’ve always been here I think, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir.’ We’re a very liberal household, and you’re much older than me besides.”

Her eyes are still averted, showing her lovely long eyelashes to great advantage. “It’s habit, I’m afraid, sir, but I’ll try.” She looks up at the butterflies. “I’ve always thought of them as a kind of angelic presence, to keep us company and give us hope for the life to come.”

“I think you must be right,” Elizabeth remarks as one bobs down toward her. “They certainly don’t fear our light and heat.”

When it alights upon her shoulder, she gives a little gasp of delight, and her cheeks flush.

“So beautiful,” she breathes as the butterfly’s black wings
radiate with color, and then it flutters away.

Elizabeth’s eyes meet mine briefly, then look away almost secretively. I hold out my hand, and the second butterfly lands upon me, and I feel the same surge of pleasure as the first time.

It lingers upon my finger, brilliantly glowing, and I feel a powerful calm settle over my mind—all its jumbled drawers and cluttered surfaces organized—and with it a great sense of strength and readiness, like a sprinter upon the start line.

“How much time is left us, Victor?” I hear Elizabeth ask.

With my free hand I take the spirit clock from my pocket. The skeletal leg has almost made its full revolution. Elizabeth draws closer to look and gives a sigh of disappointment.

“How does it work?” Konrad asks. “You still haven’t told me how you even
got
here!”

As Elizabeth explains, I suddenly remember Wilhelm’s handwritten instructions: “With practice the spirit clock can be manipulated.”

I put it to my ear and listen.
Tick, tick, tick….

The butterfly is still perched upon my finger as I touch the clock face, above the skeletal bird leg.

Slow.

“What’re you doing with it, Victor?” Elizabeth asks.

And slower still.

I put it to my ear once more and listen intently.
Tick… tick… tick…

“I think I’ve done it!” I exclaim.

“Done what?” Elizabeth asks.

“Slowed it down! Remember, the notebook said it could be
done. It ticks slower now! I’ve bought us a little more time!”

I see Elizabeth gaze at Konrad with a look of such undisguised love and desire that I feel both awkward and jealous. I cannot watch.

“These butterflies,” I say to Analiese as mine flutters away, “they have a power to them.”

“I wouldn’t know, sir. They show no interest in me.”

“Nor me,” Konrad says.

“What about these noises you’ve heard in the house?” I ask my brother.

“I still hear them from time to time,” he says uneasily.

I turn to Analiese. She has a pretty habit, I notice, of absentmindedly stroking her earlobe, which draws attention to both her lovely throat and hair. “You’ve been here much longer. Do you know anything about this?”

“I’ve never seen anyone else in this house, sir, but I think I’ve heard the same sounds as your brother. Like someone who wants to wake up but can’t.”

“Are you frightened?” Elizabeth asks Konrad.

“No,” he says, and I know he’s lying.

“Then why’s there a rapier by the piano?” Elizabeth demands.

For a moment my twin says nothing. “It gives me peace of mind, foolish as it may be. Moment by moment I don’t know what to expect. Whether I’m to be gathered to heaven—or to hell.”

“No—,” Elizabeth says, shaking her head fervently.

Konrad cuts her off, a look of wildness in his eyes. “There’s a spirit outside the windows that wants to come in, and
something
inside
that wants to wake. I doubt my rapier will make a difference, but if need be, I’ll wield it for all it’s worth.”

“I can’t bear it if you’re in any danger here,” Elizabeth says, aggrieved.

“I’ve not come to any harm here,” Analiese tells Konrad soothingly. “All will be well, sir, you’ll see.”

Konrad looks at her gratefully, and exhales with a nod. “Thank you, Analiese.”

I watch Elizabeth, her eyes moving between them. “It’s too unfair,” she says to my twin, “to have come so far and not be able to touch you.”

“Right now just seeing you and hearing your voice is great comfort,” he replies.

I feel a faint vibration in my pocket and remove the spirit clock to see the little clawed fist
tap-tap-tapping
against the glass.

“Our time is done now,” I say.

In dismay Elizabeth looks at me. “Get us more time!”

“It’s too late for that now,” I say.

“But I’m not ready to say good-bye!”

“Will you return?” Konrad asks, sounding bereft.

“I promise you,” I tell him. “But now we must go.”

“Where do you go, and how?” Konrad asks in frustration.

“To the place where we left our bodies in the real world. Come,” I say to Elizabeth, and she seems finally to understand my urgency, for her eyes move to the door. “Our bodies need us back.”

“Good-bye,” she says miserably, stretching out her hand
toward Konrad. “I shouldn’t have come. It’s a torture to leave you again.”

I head for the door, into the hallway, and look back to make sure Elizabeth is following. Down the hall we hurry with our unnatural speed, no doubt blazing trails of light for Konrad and Analiese, who stand watching us from the doorway.

Entering my bedchamber, I falter, for it looks entirely different. The furniture is all in different places, and the pieces themselves are much grander and older. The walls pulse with different colors and paintings and tapestries.

“Victor,” I hear Elizabeth say, and when I glance at her, she touches the wall as if to steady herself. “What’s going on?”

“It’s the house, remembering itself,” I say in wonder. “Our living presence seems to agitate it.”

I look at the ornate carving of the grand canopied bed and see on the pillowcases the monogram
WF
.

“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 and—

W
E WOKE GASPING AT THE SAME MOMENT
. H
ENRY PACED
between us anxiously, looking at his stopwatch.