Frankenstein Theory (23 page)

Igor returned the nod, lifted his drink, and said, “To life.”

T W E N T Y - F I V E

The return to Castle Frankenstein was uneventful…with regard to travel. Within the confines of my mind, events were unfolding at such a blinding speed, I thought certainly I would go mad. I couldn’t help but replay every moment from the death to the rebirth and re-emergence of Johann. The scenes danced in the backs of my eyelids in macabre, sepia-tone colors.

The wound bifurcating my face throbbed.

I needed relief and release.

It did not come. Upon opening the door to my home, the sounds of laughter spilled from within. Elizabeth’s delightful voice, undercut by the basso-monstrosity of my creation. Judging from the playful noise, my entrance had not registered. I stood in the open doorway and listened. The distance made it impossible to discern the conversation—there was only a tone that carried with it affection. Again my mind raced to bring about images of Johann embracing my wife; suckling at her breasts or penetrating her sex.

Heat rose from my collar. Sweat dripped from my forehead. It required every ounce of control I had at my disposal to keep from coming undone.

The voices fell silent; silence was quickly followed by footsteps. Before I could close the door and escape from the scene of my crime, Elizabeth walked into view.

“
Victor,” she said with a warm and inviting smile. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Elizabeth raised her arms and wrapped me in an embrace—one that would have ordinarily been a brief excursion into some private heaven. Unfortunately, as her arms took me in, all I could think of was her and Johann…
in flagrante delicto
.

She pulled away from me. “My, you are silent today. Where have you been?”

“
I…” My voice momentarily escaped me.

Elizabeth placed a soft hand to my face. “Are you all right, my love?”

“
Terribly sorry, pet. I was with il Maestro.”

Elizabeth instantly perked up, her smile and eyes glowing brightly. “What did he say?”

“
As I expected, he assured me Johann would be installed as the newest member of the orchestra.”

Elizabeth squealed with delight. “Oh, Victor, thank you so much.” She turned and clapped. “Johann, come here at once.”

I waved my hands before me. “That is not necessary, Elizabeth.”

She turned and tilted her head. “Are you serious, Victor? This is great news.”

Before I could protest further, Herr Grimm entered the room. From my apparently skewed perspective, guilt was scrawled over his face. I couldn’t be certain if the visage spoke truth…or lies. He said not a word and stood, hands at his sides, unblinking.

“
Tell him, Victor!” Elizabeth demanded excitedly.

I nodded and took in a deep breath before speaking. “I have managed to acquire you the position of pianist for the orchestra. You are to report for work tomorrow.”

Johann grinned wide. “I should hardly call that work.” He drew near to me…near enough that I could smell Elizabeth’s perfume emanating from his flesh. I wanted to unmake the man-made man; undo what I’d done. When he spoke, his voice was warm and honest. “Thank you, my friend. I cannot begin to express the depth and breadth of my gratitude.”

He spun to face Elizabeth. “I must retire to the laboratory and practice. Certainly il Maestro will want to see me at my best tomorrow. Will you come and listen, Elizabeth?”

I started to offer a protest. Before I could, Elizabeth was already on the heels of the racing Johann…laughing and singing the man’s praise to the heavens.

I let them go. Elizabeth would only prove a distraction while I fought back the tide of doubt. At the same time, her exit with Johann served only to fuel the machinations of my paranoia.

The door to my study closed, echoing off the stone and marble of the foyer and ending the sound of laughter.

I raced to and through my study and pulled the door to the passageway open. The sound of music greeted my ears…not moans or proclamations of love and desire. What I heard was nothing more than two friends enjoying a shared moment of joy.

Nothing more.

…
or so I desperately wanted to believe.

I quietly pressed the door closed and dropped into my desk chair. Across the room stood a massive bookcase—ceiling to floor, tomes dedicated to the sciences. Every conceivable question asked and answered by the most brilliant minds to ever commit pen to paper. Yet nowhere in my library was the answer to the one question that had any relevance to my ever-shrinking world.

Was my creation seducing my wife?

In the asking of the question, even silently within my mind, a flood of anger shocked my system. It seemed peace was fleeting. Instead of acting on impulse, I opened a hidden panel in my desk and retrieved a bottle of well-aged scotch—one that had belonged to my father. This was one of the rare occasions that I allowed myself to drink from the bottle which had last served the Baron and his disturbing love affair with drink. I removed the cork and pulled deep from the bottle until the last dregs of the liquor eased down my throat. With the magic elixir gone, I dashed the bottle against my desk and watched bits of glass fly about in every direction. Instantly, warmth and pain radiated from my hand, and my fingers went temporarily numb.

The spattering of blood sounded, like the tiniest drum, on the thick wool carpet of my study.

“
What have I done?” I glanced at my now-upturned palm to see a web of deep cuts from palm to fingers. My index finger and pinky were open to the bone.

Reason and logic had fallen to the wayside. Reaction and rage took command of my being. “Is this who I’ve become?” I bellowed to nothing and no one.

Without concern for cause, I rushed through the passage and down the laboratory stairs…all the while, my cupped hand overflowing with my very life.

I called out below. “Elizabeth!”

The sound of piano fell silent.

“
Yes, my dear?”

My head grew light as I reached the bottom step. “I am in…need…” The loss of blood continued to drain me of my ability to focus. The laboratory spun in random rotation until I found myself prone on the cold floor. Elizabeth’s and Johann’s concerned faces were the last image to grace my vision.

xXx

I lay on the operating table. Alone. Not another soul in sight. My mind swam in a sea of confusion. What had happened? Why was I here? And just where was
here
?

I raised my right arm to rub exhaustion from my eyes. The second the appendage came into view, a howl escaped my lips. “My hand!” I shouted.

Amputation. Someone had taken my hand.

I unleashed a monstrous scream that rattled the brain within my skull. No matter how hard and loud I cried out, my hand remained missing. Nothing I could say or do would return the missing flesh and bone.

“
Victor,” a familiar voice spoke softly.

I turned my head to the right and left…no one appeared in my line of sight.

“
Who’s there?” I demanded.

No answer came.

“
What have you done with my hand?”

“
The truer question, Victor, is what did
you
do to your hand?”

I finally managed to place the voice.

“
Father?”

“
Yes, my son.”

The Baron’s face came into view; his deep-set eyes stared down to take me in. He wore a surgical goggles and a light deflector.

“
Tell me what is happening, Father.”

He raised a gloved hand to caress my head. The hand was coated in scarlet. A single drop hovered momentarily and then dropped, in slow motion, to land in my eye. Immediately my vision turned blood-red.

“
Please, Father, tell me,” I begged.

The Baron opened his mouth to speak, and the sounds of piano poured from his lips. He stood and gestured behind him.

Seated at a piano, Johann worked his magic over the keys. Something, however, was quite different. Elizabeth stood by his side as a third arm, one attached under his left shoulder, caressed her backside. The foreign hands cupped her buttocks and squeezed. As Johann befouled my wife, the melody dancing from the piano took a decidedly allegro tempo.

Father returned to my side. “Your hand was needed, son.”

“
You did this to me?” I asked. The Baron nodded. “Why? Whatever did I do to you that warranted…”

The Baron stepped down to the foot of the bed and, with a magician’s grace, swiped the crisp hospital sheet that covered the lower half of my body. “Behold!”

I looked upward, into the mirror that shone down from above. Horror wrapped its cold hands around my heart and squeezed with a mighty grip.

“
My legs! What have you done with my legs?”

Once again, the Baron gestured toward the piano. Johann continued playing, his third arm now pillaging under the skirts of my wife. Added to the macabre scene was now a second pair of legs, jutting madly from Johann’s posterior. One naked foot toyed with Elizabeth’s right calf, the other stomping out a small fire rising from a burning book.

My father’s book.

Frankenstein Theory.

“
You cannot do this, Father.” I flailed about in the bed. The Baron reached down in a vain attempt to comfort and calm me.

“
Victor!” Father’s voice called out.

I continued my fit of pique.

“
Victor!” Another cry, only this time the voice less demanding.

My body lost hold of its purpose as a gentle palm caressed my cheek.

“
Victor, you’re all right.”

The voice was Elizabeth’s. Sweet. Loving.

I opened my eyes slowly, one at a time. Light violently accosted my sense of sight.

“
Doctor,” Elizabeth called out…not to me, but to another man of medicine.

“
Where am I?”

Elizabeth looked down into my eyes, her normally crystalline and elegant orbs bloodshot and rimmed with tears. “You’re at the hospital, Victor. You had some kind of accident and nearly bled to death.”

In a flash, the memories returned. The piano, the laughter, the bottle…the blood.

“
My sweet, whatever did you do?”

I raised my arm from the bed, fear insisting I do so slowly. When the bandaged hand appeared intact, I breathed an intense sigh of relief. A misplaced laughter escaped my lips.

“
There is no cause for humor, Victor.” Elizabeth grabbed my arm and cautiously lowered it back to the bed. “The doctor says you will most likely have no movement or feeling in two of your fingers.”

“
She’s correct.” An unfamiliar voice interrupted the moment. I turned my head to see a man enter the room, clad in surgeon’s attire and carrying a day-book. “Victor Frankenstein,” the newly arrived doctor addressed me in the formal. This caused me some concern. “My name is Doctor Fredrich von Himmel. I was charged with the surgical procedure on your right hand. Although I was able to stop the bleeding and successfully suture the wounds, the damage to the ligaments and tendons of your index and pinky fingers was too severe. I’m afraid you’ll have little to no control over those digits. As well, the feeling in both will be drastically diminished. You might also notice slight deformity due to the contracting of the muscle. Your two damaged fingers will be in a permanently crooked state. I also took the liberty of cleaning and re-stitching the wound on your face. There will be some massive scarring there, but the infection should subside quickly. Honestly, I’m surprised you made it as far as you did.”

I sat up, fighting against the spinning of the room. “There must be something else you can do for my hand, Doctor. Have you tried to re-attach the ligaments and tendons? I’ve done the procedure myself and have witnessed it work.”

Himmel laughed. “Are you mad, Frankenstein? The skill for such an operation is well beyond any medical professional in Geneva.”

“
No, Doctor, it is not. I can walk you through this…step by step. You must do it immediately, or else the damage will be permanent.”

Himmel placed a well-meaning hand on my shoulder. “I’m afraid it’s already too late. You’ve been out for nearly twenty-four hours. There’s no repairing what’s been done.”

I struggled against the bindings that held me fast to the bed. “You cannot do this, Doctor. I will not be butchered like a fattened hog. All you have to do is reconnect the tissue.”

“
Nurse,” Himmel called out. When the nurse entered the room, he glanced back toward me. “Sedate that man before he tears his sutures.”

The doctor made a quick exit from the room. I looked up to Elizabeth. “Please, my love, don’t let them do this to me. How am I to function?”