Once more I faced the window, wincing as Henry pummeled my body-with unnecessary force, I thought.
“It’s in your armpit,” he muttered. “Lift up your… No, the other one!”
I did as I was told and yelped as the narrow end of the flask rammed painfully into my flesh.
“Victor, are you all right?” Elizabeth asked worriedly from outside.
“You got it?” I asked Henry.
With a tight-lipped smile he waggled the sealed flask to show me.
“Victor, I’m coming in,” said Elizabeth, and I scarcely had time to yank up my undergarments before the door opened and she slipped inside. She saw Henry and nodded in relief.
“You got it off, then?”
“ Both of them,” Henry told her.
Her eyes widened in astonishment. “You have two now?”
“What of it?” I said, snatching up the rest of my clothes and dressing hurriedly.
“Why are two necessary?” she demanded.
“Because one wasn’t enough,” I snapped irritably as a savage pain jolted through my missing fingers.
I saw her glance worriedly at Henry. “Victor, has it occurred to you that these things might be… addictive?”
“I am not addicted to them,” I said, buttoning my shirt.
She walked over to my desk and its open drawer. “And you a have a third, I see.”
“I told you I was collecting them.”
She looked at me closely. “I think your father was right, Victor. You do look haunted. I don’t think you should let them on your body anymore.”
“I’m touched by your concern,” I said with a laugh. “But everything’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” she said, anger creeping into her voice. “We were only supposed to use their power to bring Konrad back. And now you’ve launched yourself on a completely different endeavor!”
“Both are possible,” I said, putting all the flasks back into the drawer and locking it. “And when Konrad comes out, he might want one for himself, even if you don’t.”
The child ran about on the grass, chased by a laughing, barefoot Elizabeth. Overnight it had grown again, and the set of Ernest’s clothes it wore was too small on its frame.
We were in a pleasant clearing in the forest, not ten minutes’ walk from the cottage. I hadn’t wanted to stray so far, but Elizabeth had been determined to visit the place. No doubt she and Konrad had taken romantic walks here together.
Sitting on the picnic blanket, the child had eaten its food eagerly, all the while clutching its doll. It seemed remarkably fond of the thing. And then it was up on its feet and charging off across the glade, Elizabeth at its heels.
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.”
