Page 34 of Her Creation

She vowed in that moment not to remove Innominatus’s brain.

“For my whim, you have donated your body, and it is a small token that I will return to you,” she whispered, with a look of wonder.

A tint of crimson cast over her face as the flame flashed red. Something sounded in the distance. The instant her mind named it, her chest tightened, and heat flared beneath her skin, defying the laboratory’s ungodly cold.

The bell. A patient stood at the gate, ringing it. Victoria felt the blood drain from her face, her hand tightening around the icy forearm of Innominatus. Until now, they had somehow avoided this moment. She would have rushed to wake her father, if he were not already awake. In recent weeks, it had been Victoria who greeted patients, as Alphonse had grown weary of being seen. But tonight he had taken an extra dose of laudanum. She would never be able to wake him, and even if she could, he would be in no state to receive a patient.

Victoria paced sharply along Innominatus’s side, her movement tight. She wished more than anything that the man would sit up and tell her what to do. Her thoughts scattered like marbles. She could save them. It was likely something simple—a fall, a carriage accident. No one hunted in weather like this, and people kept quieter; injuries were often smaller, more contained. The thought of turning someone away she knew she could help—being forbidden to act solely because she was a woman—felt like a power stripped from her so completely she scarcely knew how to endure it.

The bell tolled once more.

“Agh!” she grunted, her fingers pulling the hair near her scalp in pure frustration. “Maybe they will leave.”

But knowing she couldn’t turn someone away that needed help, Victoria was already collecting her walking cape from the hook near the back door. With a great whirl of black wool, she secured it over her head and headed into the tunnel. She would figure out what was causing the flame to redden when she returned.

It was just like any of the last times she had been sent out to collect the patient. This was no different. They would not know that she was the one doing the work.

Icy gusts of wind nipped at her cheeks, turning them rosy. The cold air stung her eyes as she struggled to see the person standing outside the carriage. The soft glow of light was hardly enough to illuminate more than the outline of two dark horses and a driver still in his post.

Something about the situation felt off. Typically, they met halfway to the door as they carried the injured person to the castle, or someone was eagerly waiting by the gate’s entrance. They rarely stayed in the coach.

Victoria rethought her urgency—perhaps she wasn’t as ready as she had been.

“I’m afraid Dr. Frankenstein is unavailable at the moment!” she called from where her feet had stopped a safe distance behind the open iron gate. When no one answered and the coachman didn’t bother to turn his head, Victoria tried again. “Apologies, but Dr. Franken—”

Wilhelm von Lichtenmarstein’s head appeared in the carriage’s window. A hat and gloves in his hand as if he were going to some type of event.

“…isn’t availa…” Half words fell from her tongue. An hour ago she had felt like a god, and now she felt as foolish as a mouse run under a cat’s paw. “Wilhelm.”

A wicked smile settled across his face. “Just as I hoped. I see you’ve climbed the ranks quite quickly, now taking in your own patients. Is the old man still here even? He could be gone and no one would know, they’ve seen so little of him lately.” His dark gaze lifted in open challenge.

Victoria wondered how a man could be so thoroughly evil while wrapped in the guise of propriety and high standing.

“Get in.” The smirk vanished from his lips, his eyes hardening.

Victoria closed her eyes. For a brief, desperate moment, she wished everything would remain that way—that the darkness might consume her entirely, keep her hidden, untouched, unreachable. She wanted to return to the laboratory with the safety of the cadaver. When she opened them again, facing the night, she believed for a single foolish second that her wish had been granted. But it had not. The elegant carriage came back into focus. The cadaver couldn’t save her, no matter how much she willed it to happen.

She could run. She could reach the tunnel before Wilhelm caught her—she knew it, even burdened by the weight of her skirts. Instead, she stepped forward, mourning the brief mercy of his absence while the weather had kept him away. Resistance would only invite disaster.

Her fingers clenched hard in the black fabric of her skirt, her boot slipping against rock and dirt, her footing faltering. It felt as though the castle itself resisted her departure, something deep within its walls tugging at her spine, urging her back.

She tightened the cloak around her shoulders and stepped forward. A cold breeze passed by with a low whistle. The howling calls of the nearby wolf pack were a symphony in the night’s silence. The horses shifted at the sound, their harnesses jingling as the coachman tried to steady them. With a click, the carriage door opened, and Wilhelm scooted along the bench to the opposite side, not bothering to reach out a hand to help Victoria in. Inside, the plush velvet coach smelled like tobacco smoke and musty cloves.

“I cannot leave. I will be missed. I—I was working with someone before I stepped out. They will come looking for me.” She thought of Innominatus lying inside. She wished he were alive to come and save her. “I cannot go to your home tonight,” she lied. Then, with sudden urgency, she added, “I’ve left important things out that need…to be put away.” Innominatus. She had left without returning him to the chamber. He would be fine for a few hours in the laboratory’s cold, but the thought of the dead man sitting all alone in the laboratory unfinished and waiting for her return felt uncomfortable.

Wilhelm brushed a brown curl that had fallen onto his forehead back into place. “Then I suppose you should be quick and efficient.” He stuck his arm out of the open window and banged his hand against the side of the cage twice. The horses began moving immediately.

Victoria panicked. What if her father woke up and went looking for her? What if he fell or needed her? What if something happened while she was gone? Her heart fluttered like a thousand wings trapped in a jar behind her ribs.

“I told you I cannot leave.” She grabbed the handle of the carriage door farthest from Wilhelm and opened it. She could still leave; she might stumble, as the horses had already picked up their pace, but she would be fine. She had to stay.

“Enough. I heard you,” he growled.

At some point, he had gotten closer. Victoria pulled her shoulders in and moved closer against the door. She realized he had grabbed her wrist and was pulling her back toward him only when she felt the bruising pain of his grip.

Keeping his grip on her wrist, he stuck his head out the window and called to the coachman. Victoria couldn’t hear over the pounding of her heart.

“Wilhelm.” She tried to soften her voice, hoping to appeal to him in a different manner. “My father needs me. He’s getting worse. Please. I cannot leave in the middle of the night.”