Johanna back to me? How could I be above their evil if I were secretly glad that I could not prevent it? These questions preyed on me, and sent me roaming the castle like a ghost. For the rest of the day I barely paid attention to where I wandered, or to the amused looks with which Frankenstein and his guests favored me. It was as if I were walking listlessly inside of a nightmare that I could not wake up from, and it was in this dark state of mind that I found myself back in the amphitheater at midnight.
Frankenstein and his other guests were already assembled there. It must have been a nightly ritual for them. And Frankenstein was right. At that hour the actors within the mural moved freely and without any care that they were being observed. Their movements were fluid and held an eerie quality, and the scenes that played out were every bit as inhuman as the illustrations that I had seen for Frankenstein’s planned drama. The women all had their clothing torn off, and in some cases were dead, having had their throats cut so savagely that their heads hung as if by a thread from their bodies. The women who were still alive all had at least one or more of their limbs cut from their bodies, and blood flowed from them every bit as much as it would have from a living person, and it left a red stain spreading across the dance floor. When they opened their mouths wide to scream, no sound emanated from them and their screams remained trapped within that nightmarish mural. Whether the women were alive or dead, it did not stop the men from raping and sodomizing them in ways that earlier would have been unimaginable to me. Some of the men would turn to grin wickedly at us, others were too caught up in their bloodlust to notice that they had an audience. As each depraved act unfolded, Frankenstein and his guests applauded with an animalistic fervor, their own faces burning feverishly as if they were in a spell. As I watched, I found my own legs increasingly growing unsteady, and when the actors within the mural turned to acts of cannibalism I staggered out of the room before the swimming within my head sent me crashing to the floor.
I was only a few yards from the amphitheater when my legs gave out from under me, and I crawled desperately to find a dark corner where I could lose the memory of the images that I had seen play out on that mural and the sound of the enthusiastic applauding and cheering from Frankenstein and his guests.
I made my way into one of the boudoirs where the noises coming from the amphitheater were muted enough to where I could almost ignore them. An iciness ran through my body, my skin as cold and damp as a corpse’s. I pushed myself into a sitting position and rocked back and forth as I grasped my knees, and kept telling myself that what I saw wasn’t real, but only the imaginations of a madman.
Except that the acts that had played out on that mural were very much like the fates that were intended for the prisoners being held within the dungeon, and for some, what was planned for was far worse, at least according to the few illustrations that I had looked at.
If I could, would I be able to save them, even if it meant that my Johanna would be forever lost to me? And even if I remained powerless to stop Frankenstein from carrying out his atrocities, would the fact that I secretly wished to remain powerless damn my soul every bit as much?
But at least I was saving one of them from that cruelty. I tried to take solace from that, but failed miserably.
For the rest of my days in the castle I avoided the amphitheater, but nothing I did could stop those images from torturing me.
Ten days after that night, the Marquis arrived. He did not arrive alone; since Frankenstein intended to bring me to London with him, he arranged for a tailor and boot maker to be brought also to the castle so that I could be properly outfitted for my trip. All of them arrived together in the same carriage, which brought them to the base of the cliff, and a wagon pulled by donkeys was next used to bring them up the path and to the castle. I did not see the Marquis arrive, or even later that evening at dinner, for he had to rest after his arduous journey. I did however meet immediately with both the tailor and boot maker, neither of whom were allowed the luxury of claiming that they were too tired to commence their work. That afternoon the tailor measured me for a suit that I would wear under my cape, as well as a pair of gloves to hide the monstrous nature of my hands, and the boot maker did likewise so that he could construct for me a pair of leather boots. Both of these men shook noticeably as they took my measurements, as well paling even whiter than milk, but they did their work, and by the following afternoon they delivered to me my clothing and boots. Frankenstein commanded me to try on my new suit, and as I did, he nodded his approval.
“A proper gentleman,” he said with a trace of a smile. “Wear this tonight for dinner. I would like the Marquis to see you like this.”
I nodded my consent, since I was incapable of doing otherwise, and that evening I arrived for dinner as Frankenstein commanded. The Marquis was already seated at the table. He looked the same pompous, rotund creature that I had seen in Frankenstein’s laboratory, except that his heavy jowls sagged more and his flesh appeared grayer around his eyes. His back faced the door and he did not notice me enter, but continued his conversation with several of the other guests about how fascinating he found Frankenstein’s mural.
“The actors within it only seem to move when I look away,” he said. “Although they have been up to much wickedness of late.”
“Wait until midnight!” the Viscountess exclaimed excitedly. “They will not show any shyness in their actions then!”
The Marquis was about to respond to her when he noticed me, and instead stopped to nod in my direction. Frankenstein also then noticed that I had entered the hall, and commanded me to take my seat, which would put the Marquis directly to my right.
“I have you to thank,” the Marquis said gravely. “Without your services we would not have been able find the players that we needed to perform my masterpiece. I viewed our actors earlier today, and they will be quite adequate.”
I held my tongue. I knew Frankenstein had not made his threat idly to dispose of Johanna’s brain if I showed any outrage over their intentions, and the fact was I was no longer sure whether I had the right to claim any moral superiority to them. The Marquis waited for me to answer him, and when I did not a thin smile showed on his lips.
“You do not approve of our intended drama?” he asked.
I chose my words carefully, and told him simply that I did not see the point of it.
“That is because you do not understand it,” he said, an angry petulance entering his voice. “I was wrong before when I thought I perceived intelligence in you when I visited Victor in Ingolstadt. Clearly you are an imbecile if you cannot see the brilliance of my drama!”
Frankenstein laughed hastily. “Do not be offended, my friend. Friedrich still clings to his noble aspirations, but that will not last for long. And he knows only bits and pieces of what we have planned. He has seen some of our illustrations, and has surmised other aspects of your drama, but that is the extent of his knowledge. When he sees the work in its entirety, he will appreciate what we are doing.”
I wondered how Frankenstein knew that I had viewed the illustrations. Had he spied on me? Or perhaps it was his dark magic that had compelled me to find them? The Marquis interrupted my thoughts by making a loud
“I do not care whether this abomination of yours appreciates my work,” he stated in a tone as dark as his eyes. “But I will be making him an actor within my play, and will be commencing with my revisions tomorrow. Does his cock work? That is all I wish to know right now!”
The Viscountess answered him, telling the Marquis how she had firsthand experience that it did. “We put on an exhibition for the actors within Victor’s mural, and I believe they enjoyed our show every bit as much as we do theirs!”
The Marquis chuckled at that and drank more of his brandy. This time when he put the glass down he smiled nastily at me, a hateful glint in his eyes. “In that case, my daemonic friend, I will be revising my drama to give you a starring role. But enough of that. Congratulations are in order. I understand that you chose one of the young girls to be your bride.”
He waited for me to answer him, and when I failed to, his smile turned nastier and he continued, “A delightful creature, the one you chose. I paid particularly close attention to her when I examined all our prisoners earlier. Although at twenty years she did seem too ripe for my taste, but still quite pretty, even at her advanced age. Her rosy cheeks and yellow hair made me curious concerning what she had beneath her peasant dress.”
With his eyes still intent on me, he ordered Frankenstein to send this girl later to his room.
