and left him and his two companions with their noses still attached to their faces.
They were not the only villains that I encountered in the darkness of London. That same night I had others try to attack me, some for sport who also gave themselves colorful names, others expecting to rob me. The same happened every night that I walked the dark London streets, even when I tried to walk along the banks of the Thames to avoid them. These villains that came from the dark to prey on the innocent seemed as numerous as the rats that I would see scurrying about, although none of them that approached me fared any better than the snout collectors.
It was our fourth day in London when Frankenstein showed up at the flat early in the evening before the sun had fallen. He had been spending his days consulting with other occultists and scientific researchers so that he could gain the necessary knowledge for his planned operation regarding Johanna, and had been too preoccupied in his thoughts to show much life during this time. That evening he was flushed with excitement as he announced that I would have to forgo my nightly activities, for he had plans to bring me to a special gathering.
“We will be leaving here at ten o’clock sharp, for we have an invitation to an exclusive club where you will be the guest of honor,” he said nearly breathless.
“The Pig Snout Club?” I asked He gave me a curious look, but did not bothering pursuing my dubious comment, and he soon left me to prepare for the evening’s festivities.
By ten o’clock, Frankenstein was dressed in his finest clothing, complete with a red satin cape, and his skin was still burning a bright pink over the anticipation that he held for the gathering. A coach was waiting for us when we left the flat. The moon wasn’t much more than a crescent and only a few stars were able to break through the haze of the night air. While Frankenstein had the driver hold his lantern so that he could enter the coach safely, he asked the driver to go back to his station when it was my turn so that I could slip in unseen.
While the coach drove away, thoughts rattled through my head of how I could get my enemy onto the London streets at night, for I knew villains were skulking about out there. Frankenstein would not last more than a mile walking in the darkness before one of these villains caved in his head with a club or stuck him through the heart with a knife. But there was nothing I could do to trick him into leaving the coach, and when I turned to throw him out by force, my arms slackened at my side and became dead things.
He sensed my movement and gave me a puzzled look. “Do you want something, Friedrich?” he asked.
“Only to know about the nature of this club,” I muttered in defeat.
“You will see soon enough, my friend.”
I sat back hating myself for my weakness. But I knew I had only been deluding myself. Even if I had the strength to push him from the coach, fear of losing my Johanna forever would have overpowered me and would have stilled me as surely as Frankenstein’s black magic had. I sat back within my seat and brooded in my self- loathing.
CHAPTER
24
The coach followed along the Thames for several miles before turning down a narrow unlit street, then making additional turns on several more cramped roadways before coming to a stop by a stone wall. The driver craned his neck to look back at Frankenstein and to tell him that this was the address. “You’re sure this is where you want to be let off?” the driver asked him.
“Yes, of course. Let me make use of your lantern.”
The driver reluctantly handed over his lantern. Frankenstein held it as he left the coach, then stood with his back to the stone wall. I followed him but stood outside of the glow of the light. Seconds later a man wearing a black cape similar to mine stepped out from the darkness to stand next to Frankenstein. As he got closer to the light from the lantern I could see that he also wore a black mask over his eyes and nose as if he were a bandit. He did not say anything, but even with his mask I could see him staring intently at my enemy.
“We will be drinking heartily to our master’s good health and rosy glow,” Frankenstein uttered softly, and this costumed man nodded his assent at these words.
“Here, give this back to the driver,” Frankenstein said hurriedly, handing me the lantern. As I returned it to the driver, his eyes grew wide as he saw my size from the glimmer of the light that the lantern produced, but he did not say anything, and with a lash of his whip sent the horses pulling his coach away. It was then that the man who had slipped out from the shadows to meet Frankenstein pressed in an innocuous fashion on several stones along the wall, causing a hidden doorway to unveil itself to us as a section of the wall swung out. The costumed man then led us down a steep and winding stone staircase, the ceiling of which was so low that even Frankenstein had to stoop to keep from grazing his head, and I had to walk nearly bent over. As we navigated down these steps, Frankenstein commanded me to lower my hood, as it would not be necessary where we were going.
Finally we reached the bottom of the staircase and entered a room that was filled with steam and the smell of sulfur, as if we had entered Hell itself. Red flames burned along the path we walked, and cages filled with fluttering bats hung from the stone ceiling. At the end of this room, our guide opened an iron door that was so small I had to get on my knees to crawl through it, and afterward found myself inside of a room that was considerably cooler than the steam-filled room that we just left. This new room held about a dozen people, most of whom were dressed in similar costumes to our guide. Some of these people were lying sprawled upon fur-lined divans, while others were standing. Our guide did not join us but instead left, presumably so that he could bring down other visitors who were able to tell him the same password that Frankenstein had.
This time I did not have to worry about scraping my head against the ceiling for it was over twenty feet high. The group of people rushed toward us, and one of them handed both Frankenstein and myself pewter goblets that were formed in the shape of Satan’s head, complete with curved horns. Frankenstein whispered to me that members of the club all wore black capes and masks while guests wore what they pleased.
“He does drink, doesn’t he?” this man asked.
Frankenstein laughed at that. “More than ten men. I’ve seen him empty many a bottle of wine and brandy without bothering to come up for air.”
“Well, then, he should enjoy some good old English whiskey!” This man peered closer at me, his eyes squinting. “Remarkable, truly remarkable,” he muttered. “And you built him yourself? I would have guessed that he had come straight from the bowels of Hell!”
“It was my handiwork,” Frankenstein said, a smug smile curving his lips. “But Hell did play a role. It was Satan’s power that breathed life into him. In his own way he is as close to Satan as we will ever get, at least in this lifetime.”
“How did you bring him to life?” this man asked.
“A rare book I uncovered,” Frankenstein said. “Over five hundred years old, and from this I was able to unlock the secrets of alchemy. And he is proof of it!”
“Is it… I mean, he, safe?” one of the other guests asked.
“Quite,” Frankenstein said with a thin smile. “Right now he would like to do nothing more than to rip me to pieces, but he is incapable of doing anything other than being my obedient slave, thanks to the satanic magic that I employed. Isn’t that true, Friedrich?”
I drank the amber liquid in my goblet before answering him, and the whiskey burned my throat. Once, Herr Klemmen and I drank cognac together to celebrate my betrothal to Johanna, but this beverage was stronger. I handed my empty goblet to one of the guests for him to refill it.
“Throttling you would be sufficient,” I said.
My answer brought a vindictive glint to Frankenstein’s eyes, but before he could say anything else one of the women club members commented about how strong I looked. “Could we have a demonstration?”
“Of course, madam,” Frankenstein said with a polite bow, and he nodded toward two of the club members, both of whom with their round pear-shaped bodies and thick whiskers would have been in trouble if they ever ended up in the hands of the surviving members of the pig snout collectors. I grabbed them by the backs of their capes, holding them so that I also had a grasp of their jackets, and I raised my arms so that I lifted them straight up into the air. They sputtered their indignation over this, and were red faced by the time I dropped them back to the floor. Several of the other members were laughing at this demonstration, and these two men decided that it would be
