Beloved Monster (7 page)

“Wait a moment. You told me not long ago that all living organisms possess a soul. Luke may no longer be Viscount Ravenswood, and it can be argued that man never possessed one at any rate. But this is a new, breathing organism. Hence, he would have a soul. Have a conscience. Experience emotions.”

“Interesting hypothesis and we can certainly observe him in the days to come and see if it proves out.” Reed paused, as if giving the theory some thought. “Perhaps you have the right of it. Or perhaps this new ‘being’ is a soulless, unfeeling monster with murderous intent. No moral compass. No sense of responsibility or conscious. This is
my
belief. Never has a life been reanimated as far as I am aware. Has it not been said, ‘the dead should stay dead?’ I know I should have heeded those words, but I truly believed he would stay reanimated for no more than ten minutes at most.” Reed popped a piece of ham into his mouth, then pointed the fork at her. “Mark my words, Cousin. We will have to tread lightly here.”

Glenna slowly sipped her tea. Yes. Tread lightly. In all ways.

Luke lay awake and wide-eyed most of the night, his mind reeling with all manner of thoughts. After Reed set his left leg, he departed without speaking or making eye contact. Luke felt the resentment come off the man in waves--and the disgust. Instead of slumber, he passed the hours by raising his right arm and leg and lifting his head. He practiced forming words, speaking softly in case anyone could hear him and also searched his mind for any clue to his identity, but found nothing but black emptiness. As if he did not exist before opening his eyes and finding himself in this underground laboratory. Yet he knew of things and events, how to explain that succinct fact? A thin ribbon of sunlight peeked through the small window. “Mmmmorring…sun.”

Better.

The key slipped in the lock, and the cousins stepped into the room. Luke watched them closely as Reed pulled over a large wooden chair.

Glenna smiled. The warmth of it caressed his skin and increased his heart rate. “Are you hungry?”

For what? Knowledge? Answers? Food? Sex? What made him think of sex? Instinctively he knew of it and seemingly possessed an intimate knowledge of the subject, but no idea of when and with whom. Could be because one of his first reactions--an erection--was sexual in nature instead of the result of the electricity the cousins spoke of. Highly plausible since upon awakening he found himself attracted to Glenna from first sight.

Food. He hadn’t thought of it at all until Glenna mentioned it. Was he hungry? Yes. For more than sustenance. He wanted to experience everything. Taste everything. Feel the morning sun on his face. Hold a woman in his arms. More specifically, the lovely woman standing before him. Again, the stirrings of desire grew within him, which in turn made his prick twitch. He looked from one to the other, hoping they would not notice. “Nnnnnn…”

“That’s a no. Interesting,” Reed murmured.

Lying around like a granite statue was no longer a viable plan. Luke lifted his right arm, and they both gasped. Then he lifted his head in an attempt to sit up, indicating he required their assistance. They rushed to his side, Reed on his right, Glenna to his left. With considerable effort he sat upright with them offering support. The blanket and canvas slipped to his waist.

It was then he saw it. Luke screamed, though it sounded rusty and hoarse. Both tried to quiet him. The agonizing cry died in his throat, and he looked away in revulsion. That was not his left hand. Not part of his body. Luke turned his head slowly and chanced another glance. A lump of scarred flesh. “Nnnnoottt mmminnne.”

“No, Luke. Not your hand. Not sure how to explain.” Glenna looked to her cousin, her eyes wide and beseeching.

“It was my doing,” Reed stated. “Glenna, hold him upright.” Reed stepped away and reached for a small needle. He lifted Luke’s left hand. “Can you feel this?” He jabbed the tip of his finger.

Luke flinched. “Yyyyssss.”

“Right. A slight response. Amazing. I agree it is rather ghastly to look at. I think I have gloves upstairs that belonged to my father. He had enormous hands. I will return shortly.” Reed exited the room.

Embarrassment and shame covered Luke at his reaction. A transplanted hand. It had to be as it certainly wasn’t his. Such a thing should not be possible, yet here it was. This nightmare scenario grew more ominous and strange with each passing hour. What happened to his own hand? And why would this mad scientist attach this…thing…to him? His stomach roiled in revulsion.

“We have to find you some suitable clothes,” Glenna stated, pulling him from his tortured thoughts.

Yet another depressing revelation, he was in this strange place without clothes. Again, that did not bode well. All signs pointed to the fact he’d been in a hospital, alone, destitute, and without possessions or identification. No, it did not bode well at all.

* * * *

The thought of dressing him in the clothes he’d been buried in was abhorrent to Glenna, and she told Reed as much earlier. Too ghoulish for words. They would have to make other arrangements. Meanwhile, she took a tentative step backward, and Luke remained sitting up without any assistance. Earlier, her heart clenched in her chest at the sound of his blood-curdling scream when he saw the lump of flesh passing for his left hand. Reed should have never--well, no matter. They could not remove it now. The fact it had any function amazed her.

If Anna and Mrs. Grampton had been upstairs, they would have heard the racket and no mistake. For now they would tell Luke of the accident, but not his true identity. Perhaps when he heard the particulars of the mishap, it would jog his clouded memory. Glenna glanced at his back. It rippled with muscles, but also had many cuts and abrasions from his curricle catastrophe. A large black burn mark was visible on the left shoulder blade no doubt from the jolts of electricity. There were a few small burns on his right hand and on other various parts of his torso where the copper wires had been attached.

Glenna circled around to face him. The handsomeness he possessed still lingered, lurking at the surface. The prominent cheekbones, strong jawline, sensual lips, and his patrician nose made for a perfect profile. Or maybe she merely wished it to be so. His chest was as muscular as his back, with a light dusting of curly black hair scattered across it. Surprisingly, she found herself attracted to him, regardless of his scars, bruises, cuts, and grayish skin. She shook the inappropriate thoughts from her mind. It must be a lingering desire for Ravenswood that she projected on Luke. Again, she thought of them as separate entities.
Amazing.

Perhaps when the stitches came out and the injury appeared not as red and swollen, it would improve his countenance even more. Regardless, he would attract attention wherever he went and not the right sort. As Reed observed, they cannot keep him chained in the cellar indefinitely.

Luke watched her closely, his gaze shrewd and inquisitive, his eyes never leaving her. She must tell him something, he deserved insight about his appearance and why he remained cloistered away in a cellar. Glenna cleared her throat. “From what I understand you were in a horrible carriage accident. You lost a hand, fractured a leg, and sustained a grievous head injury and substantial facial lacerations. You were in a coma for days. You were not expected to survive.” Glenna paused. As it stands, so far she told the truth.
Blast, she hated lying.
“I do not know who you are. My cousin thought he could…err…stimulate you out of the coma with electro-therapy.” Her vivid imagination certainly came in handy.

Reed walked into the room at that moment and nodded at her words, as if agreeing with her fabrication. “That’s all we can tell you for now,” Reed interjected. He laid a pile of clothes on the metal table next to Luke. A pair of leather gloves sat on top. “These garments were my father’s. The trousers will be short, but here is a pair of boots.” Glenna noticed they were Ravenswood’s. She shot Reed an annoyed look, but he ignored her. “You can merely tuck in the legs. The shirt should fit somewhat. Now, would you like to lie back down or do you wish assistance in dressing? Answer me if you can.” Reed’s words were cool in tone, but at least he addressed Luke directly.

“Dddresssss.”

“Very well. Glenna, if you would please leave the room?”

How laughable. She’d seen Luke naked already, but for propriety’s sake she stepped outside the door.

Then Reed spoke in a clear, emotionless voice. “You are to do as we say. Our servants return tomorrow. You are to stay below stairs and remain quiet as you need to convalesce and regain your strength and recover from your injuries. Later tonight, I will move you into the study. There is a fireplace and a comfortable sofa to sleep on. But know this: You will put us all in danger if anyone finds you here. Do you understand?”

“Yessss. Uuunddderstand.”

“Yes, well. Hmmm. Not sure the trouser leg will fit over the boards for your fracture. One moment, I can cut off the material at the knee.”

Glenna’s blood froze at Reed’s words. Everyone living in the surrounding area knew of Ravenswood and his horrid reputation, not to mention the fact he died in a spectacular fashion. How could they even try to explain a walking, breathing, reanimated Lucas Madden? Yes. They were all in grave danger.

Luke lounged on the leather sofa staring into the flickering flames from the nearby hearth. An untouched bowl of beef stew sat on the table next to him. Resting upright with his legs stretched out in front of him, he mulled over the bits of information given to him. Why did he believe there was more to the story? No choice
but
to accept what these cousins told him, his recovery depended on their continued generosity.

A carriage accident
. Wouldn’t there have been a driver? If, as they said, he lay in a coma for days, would not someone--anyone--perhaps family, have inquired after him by now?

Electro-therapy.
He had nearly laughed at the explanation. Though he was well aware what a generator looked like,
how
he knew lay open to speculation. Regardless, judging from the burns on his body, they did shock him with electric current. And yet he did not feel any pain from the burns or with his fractured leg. The discolored shade of his skin worried him as he resembled some lurking dead creature from a penny dreadful novel. Yes, he could recall a few titles, not any memories of him reading them as such, but that the subject matter concerned lurid, serial stories with supernatural beings, murderers, and highwaymen.

Dead.
The thought froze him, his heart stuttered in his chest. No. Not possible.
Absolutely ridiculous.
And yet, Glenna had said, “He’s alive,” which could indicate that at one time--he wasn’t. Perhaps she meant he had awakened from the coma. Regardless, Luke pushed the insane thought from his muddled mind. Clenching his left hand to see if it functioned, the leather in the glove creaked with the effort. Seems the transplanted monstrosity was part of him, like it or not.

Dead.
So much for trying to thrust away these disturbing thoughts as they stubbornly pushed their way back into his consciousness. It made him wonder if he expired on the table and the jolts of electricity brought him back from death’s door. Or was he dead for a longer period of time? The pale gray shade of his skin indicated the latter. A low, rumbling groan of exasperation left his throat.

Glenna stepped into the study. “Are you warm enough?”

Giving her a sharp nod, he frowned as lingering anger boiled in his gut. She pulled a chair next to him and sat. Reaching for the bowl of stew, she said, “You haven’t eaten. It is probably difficult for you. Let me assist you.” She held the spoon with stew close to his mouth. How tempting to knock it away from him. Luke inhaled. The enticing odor of beef and onions assaulted his senses. But he could smell something else--lilac soap and crisp linens.
Glenna.
Her scent was far more enticing than the food. Banking his simmering anger, he opened his mouth and allowed her to feed him.

Yes, food. The flavor exploded in his mouth and pure pleasure moved through him. It was if he tasted food for the first time. He grunted in response. Glenna gave him a charming smile and continued to feed him until the bowl was empty. His gaze never left her, and the last of his anger dissipated. Glenna’s fresh prettiness managed to divert his attention once again. Could he be taken with her, since there were no other females about or was it because she treated him with kindness and not abhorrence?

Perhaps a little of both. But the main reason had to be her generous curves, sweet smile, and attractive face consumed his thoughts. He wanted her in the earthiest and basest way and the intense lust concerned him. Controlling those potent urges could prove to be difficult, since he did not seem much in control of anything at the moment, especially his emotions. At least being fed lent a certain intimacy to the proceedings. In spite of his growing desire for her, he needed answers. “Mmmeee. Dead.”

Her smile disappeared, and she visibly paled. Biting her lower lip, Glenna gazed down into the empty bowl.

“Was. I. Dead.” No stuttering this time, though it took a couple of seconds between each word to get them out.

“Yes, Luke. You were in a coma. Then… You passed.”

Something was not right. Could it be the cagey tone of her voice or the doubt taking root and growing deep inside him? “Mmmmirrrr.”

“Luke, I do not think…”

He clenched his right fist and slammed it against his thigh in frustration. “Mmmirrrr-or. Now.”

Glenna left the room. The logs in the fireplace snapped and crackled; a few stray sparks danced in the hearth. The vital rage building inside of him again was truly alarming. Mixed with the fury? A sense of apprehension.

In no time at all, she returned and passed him a mirror. With a deep exhale, he held it up in front of his face. Stitches. Red and swollen skin was clearly visible on his left cheek while the rest of his flesh was a light gray tone. A metal plate was fastened to the side of head. Multi-colored, bloodshot eyes. Ugliness. He
had
been dead. He still looked dead.
Monster.