Page 45 of Her Creation

A stone lodged itself in Victoria’s throat. Her vision blurred as she watched tears slip from the corners of her father’s deeply lined eyes.

“This is my last chance,” he continued, voice unsteady, “to achieve something truly revolutionary before my body fails me completely and I’m to be stationed in a bed or chair for the rest of my days, incapable of caring for myself. There are days now I can barely stand. Days when instead of giving you the benefit of my full instruction, I become the assistant, not only because of your capabilities, but because of a lack of mine.”

Victoria moved to his side at once, guiding him to sit. He collapsed onto the worn leather sofa in the library, where moments before he had been desperately searching for a book of notes. The fire crackled fiercely behind her as she sat on the old chest they used as an ottoman.

“And what’s so bad about that?” she asked softly, leaning forward to take his shaking hands into her own steady ones. “You have taught me well. I still need your knowledge. Is it so terrible that you should be my assistant? That you live the rest of your life in leisure, while I continue your legacy? This is not your last great experiment—perhaps only the last you physically orchestrate.”

By then, Alphonse had removed his spectacles, wiping at his eyes with visible irritation. A small smile tugged at one corner of his worn mouth. “And how long do you think this ruse will last?” he asked gently. “It does not sit right with me to leave this burden to you. I must believe that before my life ends, there will come a day when women are respected in the medical field. But if that day does not come, how can I be at ease knowing I’ve left you with such a weight—and no protection? I don’t know how many years I have left alive, but I know my days of surgery and experiments are closing.”

Victoria leaned back against the trunk, the fire’s heat warming her until it bordered on painful. She had never allowed herself to imagine what would come after her father’s death. She had not considered how she might survive without him. After her mother’s passing, survival had already felt improbable. Without the only other person in her world, she could not envision a future at all.

They had to awaken Innominatus; they just had to. It felt already like a family as they all worked together, and she couldn’t imagine caring for her father without the support of Innominatus. She needed him to keep her sane when things got worse.

“Nonsense,” she said at last, forcing a smile. “I have plenty of options, I just choose you. Just yesterday Helena was begging me to visit her in France come spring.”

Alphonse nodded slowly. “Helena is a good friend. A good person. But she is married, and men do not enjoy being second to their wives’ friendships. Even in the best circumstances, such arrangements do not last.”

Victoria opened her mouth to tell Alphonse that Helena’s husband was quite busy and preoccupied with Helena’s brother and would not mind at all but then changed her mind.

“Perhaps once you have gone, then I will no longer have the urge for helping in the medical sense, and I will go somewhere quiet and beautiful. Not that I ever really did, I think. All I ever really wanted was to be capable of resurrection and reanimation, and that is something I will get to do with you. It’s no secret I do not have the patience for the people of this town in the way that you do—or for people in general. I will continue on as long as is needed.”

Victoria rose abruptly, unable to tolerate the fire at her back another moment. The heat pressed too insistently against her spine, as though it were trying to brand her in place. She faced the vast stone overhang of the mantel instead, her gaze drifting upward to the small, framed paintings of her mother arranged there. The familiar brushstrokes caught the firelight, softening and sharpening by turns as the flames shifted behind her.

“No,” she said quietly at first, then with growing certainty, “I don’t believe I’m as pure and good of a soul as you are.” Her voice hardened as she spoke, each word carrying more weight than the last. “In fact, I do not care about helping anyone—especially those of this town. They’ve caused me nothing but pain. They call us names when they think I cannot hear. They are cruel and dismissive.” Her jaw tightened. “None of them were ever kind to Mother while she was alive.”

“You have more good in you than I, Victoria.”

Victoria spun back toward her father, the glow of the fire throwing a fierce halo around her silhouette, outlining her like a figure carved from shadow and flame. “No. I help them for your sake,” she continued, unwavering. “And once you are gone and with Mother, I wish to help them no more. I will find other means to survive. I don’t want to think about that, though. You are here now, and even should you be in a chair or bed, you will be here decades longer with me. Your soul is so pure, God will give you a long, happy life with me at your side.”

Her father leaned back in his chair, absently rubbing the side of his thigh before his hand drifted to his chest. For a moment, she was confused—until she realized he was laughing. “My soul is far from pure, I can assure you,” Alphonse said at last. “But if I saved people or helped them based solely on their ability to be kind to me, no one would get help. There must always be one person willing to help and do something knowing there will be no payment and no reward. The reward is not found in what others are capable of giving but in knowing you acted according to your own capacity. The sun asks nothing of us, yet all living things are sustained by its light. It does not withhold its radiance simply because we cannot shine back.”

“Still,” Victoria said, teeth gritted, frustration flaring again, “I cannot understand how you bear it. How many of them I have helped under a blanket of invisibility, and how often they have been rude—unkind—as though I were nothing. They at least treat you with kindness.”

A softness passed over Alphonse’s face as the firelight shifted, painting him in varying shades of gold and amber. “That,” he said gently, “is where you misunderstand the burden you carry. A snake will always be a snake. You do not help it across the road expecting that your assistance will change its species. When it is safe on the other side, not only is it still a snake but now a snake with someone to strike.” He folded his hands loosely. “I am tolerated among the nobles and the community not because I helped them cross the road once, but because I stay by the road, helping direct all the others that come. The day they no longer need to cross, they will strike me just as quickly as they would anything else.”

His gaze sharpened, thoughtful and intent. “You were never built to help snakes cross the road,” Alphonse said softly. “You were always meant to be the hawk, watching as your feast of snake is delivered at your feet from across the road.” Alphonse stood then, a broad grin breaking across his face.

“I am hardly a ferocious raptor,” she replied, a soft, incredulous chuckle slipping free.

Her father studied her for a long moment. “I wonder how many hawks and kestrels consider themselves ferocious,” Alphonse said thoughtfully. “I’m sure they believe themselves to be as ordinary as all the other birds.” His brow lifted in challenge as he reached for one of the stacked books beside the sofa.

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“This will not work,” Alphonse shouted across the chamber.

Victoria sat hunched in the small corner near her desk, a large bucket positioned beneath her. She barely looked up. “We don’t know what’s in your blood that caused your disease,” she replied steadily. “What if it affects the outcome of the experiment? We can’t risk that.”

She fixed her gaze on a single, perfectly cut square of stone in the wall opposite her, concentrating with everything she had to keep the nausea at bay. A cool tingling had crept across her face, spreading outward as the slow drip of blood from her arm fell into the bucket below, pitter-pattering softly in the silence.

“What should it matter?” Alphonse argued sharply. “We’re killing it again immediately afterward. Even diseased blood will not disrupt organ function temporarily.” He moved closer, his voice lowering but no less firm. “Despite what you say, you are weak—and ill with nerves yourself. You have grown thin and gaunt these last months. Until now, I have allowed you your comfort in quiet so as not to worsen it, but you are hardly in any condition to produce enough blood for this experiment.”

“I’m fine.” She wasn’t. “And I understand your apprehension, but I still think you will change your mind and allow him to stay once you meet him.”

“Victoria,” her father warned. “I have told you not to get attached. He will die within twelve hours of resurrection. Even with adaptation and a new brain, the man’s body is still a weapon. He enjoyed hurting and killing, and he was good at it. So good at it, countries fought over him. He did not spare women and children. The man had no morals, apparently, only violence and greed. Dangerous cannot describe the things I’ve heard about this man since he’s been in our possession. He is infamous among the elite. Never married. The only women he was seen with were killed—in fact nearly everyone who saw him died. They say you only saw him when it was your time to die, and even then, no one ever saw him when he killed. A wraith.”

When the dark gray grout around the stone began to blur and double, Victoria stopped the flow of blood from her vein and quickly tied the small tourniquet around her arm.

“He could awaken and be the most soft-spoken, kind man I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, and I will still not allow him to live. I will not allow him near you once he awakens. That kind of evil stays in the soul. No matter what we replace, it will reside within him. He must die. No exceptions, Victoria. That’s enough blood.”