“Victor! Elizabeth! Konrad!”
The voice came from overhead, and with it the blaze of a torch.
“Henry?” I called. “Henry!”
I peered up and saw his face leaning over the hole. It was impossible to imagine a more welcome sight.
“You have been so long!” he called down. “It’s nearly nine o’clock! I was almost demented with worry!”
“We’re here, Henry,” said Konrad. “Triumphantly here. Give us a hand, and we will all be up in a minute!”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
We sent Henry straight back to Geneva with the coelacanth head. The city gates closed at ten o’clock, and he had little time to lose. I wanted it delivered to Polidori’s house as soon as possible.
We’d told our parents that Henry would likely return straight home after our outing, so they wouldn’t think it strange when we arrived back at the chateau without him. The three of us made our way with all haste, for the light was quickly failing, and we knew that our parents would be worried-and likely furious.
“There will be questions,” I said when we approached the stables, slowing our horses to a trot. “We must tell them as little as possible. We are wet because we fell into the water while fishing.”
“We have no fish to show for ourselves,” said Elizabeth.
“I should’ve thought of that,” I said. “But it can’t be helped now. We fished for the sport of it. We’re late because we lost track of the time.”
“Most important of all,” said Konrad, “we do not mention anything about Polidori or our quest.”
Mother and Father must have been listening for our horses, for they were in the courtyard scarcely before we had dismounted. On seeing us, Mother burst into tears and scolded, even as she embraced us. Her grief made me feel ashamed for the first time.
We handed off our horses to the grooms and were ushered inside.
“You have worried your poor mother to distraction, and me as well,” Father said angrily.
When I removed my riding furs, Mother gasped.
“Victor, your arm!” I looked to see the bloom of blood on my shirt.
“A small wound, really,” I said, glad of the chance to appear brave before Elizabeth.
“We must call for Dr. Lesage,” Mother said.
“We won’t be able to reach him until morning,” said Father. “I will tend to it.” To Schultz, our butler, he said, “Konrad and Elizabeth will need warm baths drawn at once. Give them each a small glass of brandy. And have bed warmers between their sheets, please.”
“Very good, Master Frankenstein,” said Schultz.
I watched as my brother and Elizabeth were led off, as meekly as little children, to their separate baths.
My father turned to me. “Come to my study.”
Mother made to accompany us, but my father caught her eye and shook his head. Inside his study he sat me at the great oak desk and told me to remove my shirt. I did so, and he unwound the bandages.
“You have been bitten,” he said calmly.
I cleared my throat. “Yes,” I said. “It was a fish. A large one.”
Father took a small valise from a cupboard and withdrew from it a clean white cloth, which he spread over the desk. Next he set out bundles of cotton batting, a packet of needles, and a spool of thread. I always knew that Father’s knowledge was impressive but had not known he was also capable of simple surgery.
At the side table he filled a tumbler with brandy, and then placed it on the desk near me.
“You may wish to fortify yourself,” he said.
“I am fine,” I said, my mouth dry.
“Very well. Hold out your arm.” He took a clear flask, unstoppered it, and poured a small amount of liquid directly into each of my wounds. It was worse than being bitten. The pain pierced my arm through and through, and I cried out.
“Alcohol to disinfect,” my father said, “before we suture.” He started to thread a needle. “What possessed you to go underground?”
“Underground?” I croaked, truly surprised.
“I glanced inside your saddlebags,” he said, “and found a lantern and a flask of oil.”
What a fool I’d been. I composed my answer carefully. “We’d heard tales that there was a pool beneath the earth where we might see a coelacanth.”
“Are they not extinct?” my father asked, and inserted the needle into my flesh. I winced but kept myself from crying out.
“No,” I grunted as the needle crisscrossed my wound. “They live… in the lake bottom and… spend their days in underground pools.”
“And you were bitten while attempting to catch it?”
I exhaled. “Yes, Father.”
He made another two stitches, closing the first wound, and then tied off the threads and snipped them short with scissors.
The room swam briefly before me. My father turned my arm so he could work on the second bite.
“It was very foolish,” I said, hoping to distract him from his calm course of questioning. “I promise I will never enter those caves again. I am very sorry.”
“Why did you try to catch the fish?” Father asked.
“To catch such a rare thing-” I groaned. “We thought it would be remarkable.”
“It seems,” said my father, “that you meant to explore these caves all along.”
I said nothing. I could not think clearly. The pain was mounting, and my guilt with it. I wondered if Elizabeth and Konrad were undergoing a similar interrogation by my mother. At least they weren’t having their rent flesh sewn together. They should have been able to keep silent. I reached for the brandy, but my father moved it beyond my grasp.
“Yes, it was planned all along, Father.”
“You deliberately misled your mother and me.”
I whimpered as the needle entered my flesh yet again. “Father, the pain is…” I reached out for the brandy, but once more he withheld it.
“You have also visited the Dark Library again.”
I said nothing.
“Yes or no, Victor?”
“Yes, I did,” I said faintly. “How did you know?”
“Footsteps in the dust. Books shelved in different places. It’s unlike you to deceive, Victor. And I can’t help wondering if these two deceptions-your forbidden visit to the library and your expedition today-are connected in some way.”
Why had I thought I could fool him? He was one of the cleverest men in the republic, a magistrate who judged truth from lie in his daily work.
“Are they connected, Victor?”
I had no more fight left. I nodded. He pushed the brandy toward me, and I greedily drained the tumbler. The burn in my throat temporarily obliterated the pain.
Father finished the last stitch and looked up. “Now I want to know why you did these things.”
“It was my idea from the start,” I said quickly. Even in my suffering I was eager to take full credit for the enterprise-and also to control the story. “When Konrad was ill, and none of the doctors seemed to know how to cure him, we found a recipe for an elixir of life and decided it might be his only hope. So we set about searching for the ingredients.”
Father’s face darkened. “Did you hear nothing of what I told you in the Dark Library? You disobeyed me to
