“Thank you,” she said. “How is your hand?”
“It does not hurt much.” She took my hand in hers and unwound the bandages.
“Is it hideous?” I asked, gazing upon it with a curious lack of feeling.
“No. It is heroic.”
From Father’s desk she took a clean bandage and wound it round the stumps of my missing fingers.
“What will we tell Mother?” she said calmly.
“I don’t know.”
I felt like we were both dreamwalking, beyond our bodies, watching ourselves.
“How long will it take to work?” she asked.
It took a moment for me to realize she was talking about the elixir.
“Surely it must start at once.”
“I only hope we were in time,” she said. “He seemed so still.”
I could see she wanted reassurance. “He woke the moment he imbibed it.”
“He looked at us with complete understanding,” she said hopefully.
“Yes. He is already being healed.”
She yawned. “We should rest.”
“Yes. We should rest.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When I woke, my windows were ablaze, for I’d for-gotten to draw the curtains. I hadn’t thought I would sleep, but only wait for the dawn, when I could check on Konrad.
I leapt out of bed. It must have been close to noon. A servant had left water in a basin, removed my soaked and bloodied clothes, and laid out a fresh set for me. I hurriedly washed and dressed, then rushed down the corridor to Konrad’s bedchamber. The door was ajar, and when I slipped inside, I saw a room bright with sunshine, fragrant with the smell of fresh flowers and linens-and Konrad sitting up in bed, smiling and chatting with Mother and Elizabeth, while eating some soup.
At first they did not see me, and for a long moment I could only stare in delight and wonder.
It had worked! It had not been in vain.
“You’re better!” I cried.
“Good morning, Victor,” my brother said.
Elizabeth looked at me, beaming.
“The fever is certainly gone,” said Mother. “He is still weak, but altogether much improved.”
Any puzzlement or anger Mother might have felt to see us back at the chateau had clearly been obliterated by her happiness at Konrad’s recovery. I drew my right hand into my ruffled sleeve, for I was unsure how much Mother or Konrad already knew, and I didn’t want to upset anyone right now. I saw, however, that Elizabeth still wore the bandage on her cheek, so she must have made some explanation-how truthful, I didn’t know.
I hurried to the side of Konrad’s bed and sat down. There was a hint of color in his cheeks and lips now. With my good hand I grasped his.
“It’s so good to see you awake!” I said.
“Nothing is more boring than an invalid,” he said. “I’m terribly sorry.”
“Don’t be absurd,” said Elizabeth.
“And you needn’t worry,” I added. “I’m sure you’ll never be an invalid again.”
He looked at me curiously, and seemed about to say something, when there was a polite knock on the door and Henry poked his head in.
“Hello. I’ve come to see how you’re feeling,” he said, smiling at the sight before him, “and I feel like a late guest at the party.”
“Come in, Henry,” said my mother fondly. “Our Konrad seems to be on the mend.”
“That is grand news,” Henry said, shaking his head in clear amazement.
“You need a seat, Henry,” I said. I stood and reached with both hands for a chair near Konrad’s desk.
“Victor!” I heard my mother gasp. “What happened?”
How could I have forgotten so easily? Slowly I turned to face her.
She was on her feet, striding toward me, staring at my bandaged hand. She did not need to remove the dressing to know that I was missing two fingers.
“ How did this happen?” she whispered.
I could think of no lie to tell her, and why did I need lies, now that we’d completed our quest in triumph?
“It was necessary,” I said.
“What on earth do you mean?” she demanded.
“The last ingredient of the elixir was bone marrow.”
She said nothing, but tears spilled from her eyes, and she shook her head mutely.
“It is only two fingers,” I added stupidly.
She covered her face. “It is too much. Why did you do such a foolish, foolish thing, after everything your father told you?”
“We were afraid Konrad would die,” Elizabeth told her, putting her hand on Mother’s shoulder.
“But he’s recovered!” my mother said. “And all this was unnecessary!”
“He recovers,” I said gently, “because we gave him the elixir last night.”
Mother’s crying stopped, and she looked at me in horror. “When?”
“At midnight. While everyone slept, we dripped it into his mouth.”
“Maria did not stop you?” she demanded.
“She was asleep with exhaustion,” I lied.
“But it might’ve been poison!”
“How can it be poison and make such a dramatic improvement?” I gestured at Konrad, who was listening and watching all this with wide eyes.
“I imbibed your bone marrow?” Konrad asked.
“It was very nearly imbibed by Polidori,” said Henry.
Konrad sat up straighter. I looked from Henry to Elizabeth, then to Mother. I had not wanted the alchemist’s name to be mentioned so soon.
“Julius Polidori is involved in this?” Mother said.
“He helped us translate the recipe,” I replied.
“He hacked off your fingers?” she shouted.
“That was part of the recipe. I offered them willingly. But he turned scoundrel and meant to take the elixir for himself.”
“We had quite a tussle to get it back,” said Henry. “He set his lynx on us.”
My mother waved her hand to silence us, and sat down.
“You must tell this story properly,” she said after a moment. “And leave nothing out.”
Mother wasted no time writing a message to the chief magistrate of Geneva, and sent one of the grooms to deliver it. She wanted Polidori arrested at once.
She found two lads who knew how to sail and had them return the fishing boat to its owners in the marina, and then take a message to Mr. Clerval, telling him Henry would stay with us a few more nights.
She put three menservants on guard, one at the main gate, and two on the ramparts. She worried Polidori might wish us further harm, and wanted to keep us all within the chateau until he was apprehended.
I didn’t think such drastic precautions were necessary, for Polidori didn’t know who we were, so how could he find us?
Mother was a strong woman, and had always been vigorous, but I had never seen her move about the house with such intent. It was quite terrifying. She spoke little-as though she did not quite know what was to be done with
