I’d estimated I’d gotten about halfway up—though frankly I had no way to gauge distance in a place like this—when I finally heard the first voice that wasn’t my own. It was a woman’s, and she was crying. Not great, pitiful sobs, but the sort of tears we reserve for ourselves and ourselves alone. I pressed myself against the glittering stone wall and inched forward, peered around the bend, and saw a pitiful figure chained so that her body formed an “X”, her hands and feet bound and stretched to their limits, attached to the floor and ceiling respectively. It was a horrifying sight and all the more so because I knew exactly who I was looking at.
Mabel.
The elven lass looked somehow even worse than when I’d last seen her on Polyphemus’ island. Back then she’d been covered in blood and sores, woefully malnourished, and begging me to kill her rather than leave her at the mercy of her master—who I’d assumed was Ryan at the time, but now I wasn’t so sure. Either way, Mabel currently bore so many bruises and scrapes I hardly recognized her, and her clothes were tattered rags. Worse, whoever had hung her up had either neglected or refused to cover her exposed bits. Strung up like that, she looked every part the victim, and even I felt terribly sorry for her.
But then her tears stopped.
“Is someone there?” she called.
I wavered, uncertain whether to step out and help her, worried I’d fall into some sort of trap set by Frankenstein or Ryan or both. The fact that either could have done this upset me almost as much as the fact that it had happened at all; if Ryan was capable of this, I’d be doing the known universe a favor by slitting his throat, and I knew it. The trouble was, Mabel had tried to kill me before—more than once. Could I afford to risk confronting Frankenstein for her sake? Unfortunately, the answer was no.
But I did it, anyway.
“It’s Quinn,” I replied, popping my head out to make sure the coast was clear before slipping into the hallway and creeping towards the chained Faeling, my soft-soled shoes making hardly any noise in the process. I’d used Freya’s magic to hide my armor, hoping the illusion would offer me a strategic advantage.
“Quinn?”
Mabel’s voice was thready and full of pain. I noticed she didn’t so much as turn her head when I spoke, and saw why when I got close: they’d used iron shackles. I hissed at the damage to her wrists and ankles, getting angrier by the second. Whoever had done this had wanted her to hurt—a lot.
“Aye, it’s me. Don’t worry, I’m goin’ to get ye down in no time.”
“Trap.”
I froze, my hands hovering inches above the shackle around her right ankle, prepared to snap it in two with my newfound strength. I scanned either side of the hallway, trying to figure out where the trap was coming from, but no one was in sight.
“What trap, Mabel?”
“Frankenstein,” she replied, weakly. “He wanted you here.”
Well, that much I’d already suspected, at least. Why else would his dread beasts have hunted me across Niflheim? Still, it wasn’t exactly reassuring to know that the mad scientist had what he wanted.
“And Ryan?”
“Gone.”
“Gone? Where’s he gone?”
“Atlantis.”
“That’s not possible,” I replied, my pulse speeding up at the mention of the City of the Lost. Unfortunately, Mabel wasn’t up to a debate; her head lolled forward, her chin pressed against her chest. I cursed and snapped the shackles binding her legs in quick succession. She jerked upright and screamed as the restraints fell away, her wrists now bearing the brunt of her weight. I took care of those next, allowing the shockingly light creature to fall over my shoulder like a bag of kibble.
Mabel whimpered as I lowered her to the floor, her eyes pinched shut so hard I thought they might get stuck and never open again. Part of me wished I’d have asked Freya for a cloak before I left so I could cover the Faeling up, but as it was, the best I could do was adjust what little fabric remained and keep my eyes averted for modesty’s sake.
“Mabel,” I said, worried her scream would soon bring reinforcements, “I need to hide ye and find Frankenstein. D’ye know where he is?”
Mabel nodded, still refusing to open her eyes, but her sudden grip on my arm reminded me that I wasn’t dealing with a frail mortal woman; she held on so tight I’d have been bruised were it not for Nevermore’s layer of protection.
“Take me with you,” she insisted. “I know where he is. I can show you.”
“Mabel, I can’t. Ye aren’t in any condition to—”
“You can’t leave me here. Not again.”
I bit my lip, cursing inwardly. She was right; I’d abandoned her once, and they’d strung her up knowing she wouldn’t die. What happened if I failed and they found her a second time? Better that she be at my side where at least she’d stand a chance against her captors than forced to hide and await the outcome.
“Ye have to do everythin’ I say,” I hissed as I helped her to sit up. “That means if I say ‘run,’ ye run. If I say ‘hide,’ ye hide. I’m not your babysitter, and I haven’t forgotten the time ye tried to stab me.”
“I’ll do it.” Mabel opened her eyes, her expression hardening as she sought my face. “I want the one who hurt me to pay. To suffer for eternity.”
Well, that we could agree on.
“Alright, then,” I said, drawing her to her feet despite her raspy groans. “I’m sure the doctor will see us, now.”
32
We reached the tower’s uppermost floors after several excruciating detours that whittled down Mabel’s early enthusiasm until she was all but slung across my shoulders, her toes sliding along the ground. It turned out that her knowledge of Frankenstein’s whereabouts was more theoretical than actual, which meant we’d had to try multiple hallways before finding the one which led to what my elf companion had dubbed the “throne room.” It was there, apparently, that she’d last seen Ryan.
“Frankenstein made a deal with the goddess who ruled this place,” she told me as we moved towards the massive double doors at the end of the hall. “Ryan was part of it.”
“What was the deal?”
“I don’t know. I was tied up on the floor and couldn’t overhear much. All I saw was their feet. One second Ryan’s were there, then they weren’t. Poof.” Mabel looked up at me with a dazed, slightly manic gleam in her eye that spoke of more trauma than I could possibly relate to. “He left me, too. Why does everyone do that?”
I felt a twinge of guilt in response to her question but refused to dwell on it; I had enough people to take care of without picking up strays who had a history of biting the hand that fed them. Once I’d confronted Frankenstein, found out where Ryan had gone, and gotten us all out of here, then I’d see about securing the psychological help Mabel would need to recover from what all had been done to her.
“So, he’s through here, ye t’ink?” I asked, jerking my chin towards the double doors. “Frankenstein?”
“That’s where he was when I last saw him.”
“Here?” I cocked an eyebrow. “But then who tied ye up?”
“Oh, that was Ryan,” Mabel replied, sounding distracted. “He used his new magic, the stuff he learned from the witch on that island.”
“But I thought ye said he was gone by then?”
“Shit,” Mabel cursed, her voice dripping with such scorn that alarm bells began ringing in my head. “I knew I was going to screw this up.”
I turned to ask the elf what the hell that was supposed to mean when I felt the tip of the syringe plunge into the side of my neck, just below my ear and above the protection of my armor. Somehow, Mabel had known exactly where to strike—probably from having hung on me for the past hour, I realized. I wobbled, my legs giving out almost immediately after she pushed the plunger home, and this time it was Mabel’s turn to catch me. The elven backstabber lowered me to the floor and took hold of one of my arms, dragging me casually behind her as though I were a doll who’d wandered off during
tea time.
I tried to speak but nothing came out. I was paralyzed, unable to so much as twitch. And yet I could feel everything; I knew she hadn’t bothered to remove the syringe from my throat, for example, just as I knew she’d tear my arm out of its socket soon if she didn’t slow down. I wanted to ask why, to demand she stop and explain herself, to curse her for tricking me after I’d saved her miserable ass...but in the end all I could do was listen as she kicked the door open and flung me across the threshold.
“Here she is, Master. It happened just like you said! I had to use the syringe you gave me, but she didn’t suspect a thing until it was too late.”
“Excellent work, Mabel. Well done.”
The vaguely German voice would have stopped me cold in my tracks if I weren’t already lying on my side and completely unable to move. A pair of brown loafers approached, but the monster they belonged to didn’t bother squatting down to look me in the eye. But then, nothing about that shocked me; from everything I’d seen of him, Doctor Victor Frankenstein enjoyed looking down on everyone.
“I’m so glad, Master!” Mabel jumped up and down, her bare feet caked in the blood from her chafed ankles, clapping her hands excitedly. “Does this mean I’ll get to assist you? You did promise.”
“Of course you may, but only after you get cleaned up. You know how I feel about contamination, and we have ourselves a very special operation planned today. Now, hurry along or I’ll be forced to dissect this creature without you.”
33
The stone was cold against my naked back. Thick leather straps pinned my bare legs and chest to the table, making it impossible to do anything but turn my head away from the blinding overhead light Mabel had procured on Frankenstein’s orders. But that only made me feel worse. All I could make out from where I lay were the tools on the neighboring table, the majority of which looked exactly like what they were: torture devices. I’d taken one peek and immediately regretted it. Indeed, the fact that he hadn’t yet used any of them on me was all that kept me from screaming for help. That, and the realization that no one who might have cared could hear me anyway.
It was a morbid, unpleasant thought.
But accurate.
After all, if anyone was going to step in on my behalf, I expected they’d have done it before Frankenstein and his demented nurse stripped me out of my illusory clothes with absolutely no difficulty and strapped me naked to the table. The fact that I could still feel their hands on my pliant, unresisting body—the press of Mabel’s chest against my shoulders as she carried me to the table and dumped me like trash onto its unforgiving surface, the pinch of the mad doctor’s fingers as he took my measurements—made my stomach churn.
“Any questions before we begin?” Frankenstein asked as he donned a pair of thin, brown leather gloves, his peppered mustache twitching above his pale lips. “I suggest getting them out of the way, now. You may not be in your right mind to do so later.”
“Where’s Ryan?” I managed, struggling to form the words; I’d only recently regained the use of my limbs and voice.
“Ah, Herr Frost. I am afraid he and I parted ways not so long ago. He had other business to attend to on my behalf.”
I felt the dim ember of hope that Ryan might somehow find me lying here and free me for old time’s sake flicker and die like a blown out candle. There would be no rescue. No white knight to ride in and save the day—not that I’d have anticipated one. Still, that meant it was up to me to figure a way out of this. But what could I do? Even if I weren’t recovering from a paralyzing agent, I’d never be able to escape these restraints. No ordinary human could.
“No more questions? Excellent. Mabel, hand me the scalpel. Yes, the smallest knife, there. Remember, we want to make a clean incision.”
“Wait,” I interjected, weakly.
“Oh, you weren’t done.” Frankenstein looked disappointed but passed the knife back to his eager assistant, his decorous manner at odds with the egomaniacal lunatic I’d met on the island of the Vegiants. Of course, back then my inner goddess was the one with all the power, foiling all his plans.
“Atlantis…” I struggled to clear my throat.
“The toxin will make it difficult to speak, fräulein. The muscles in the throat are most susceptible, I’ve found. But I think I can grasp what it is you wish to say. You want to know where the lost city lies, is that it?”
I shook my head.
“Oh? I must admit that was what I would have wanted to know in your position. What is it then?”
“Why...Atlantis?”
“Ah, an abstract thinker!” Frankenstein smiled, his teeth sitting strangely perfect, their glossy whiteness at odds with the fleshy ruin of his leathery face. “You’ll have to forgive me. Most seem obsessed with its location, more so than its relevance. Of course, having never been there, myself, I am not equipped to answer your question as thoroughly as I would like. Suffice it to say that Atlantis holds a certain...proximal value.”
Proximal, as in proximity? Meaning Atlantis was close to something worthwhile? But that didn’t make any sense. How could something so sought after offer so little? I felt like I was missing something. Unfortunately, I didn’t know the right questions to ask, and time wasn’t on my side; the longer I stayed quiet, the more likely Frankenstein was to resume his operation.
“Why...send Ryan?” I prompted before he could speak again, hoping to delay the process indefinitely.
“And not go myself, you mean? Yes, I must admit I was terribly intrigued to see the lost city with my own eyes. But the road to get there, losing one’s mind...I must confess, I had not realized Atlantis would be so well guarded. It was very cleverly done.”
“Ryan...lost...his mind?”
“Oh yes, but don’t fret, the effect is not permanent. His mind belongs to me, you see. He won’t find getting rid of it so easy as all that. Indeed, once I understood what needed to be done to reach Atlantis, all that was left was discovering the how. Something at which, and I do hope you will not think me too boastful for saying so, I excel. No, in due time, I expect Herr Frost will set about pilfering the city’s treasures, looking for a weapon worthy of his devourer. Such an enchanting jewel. So much raw power. A shame they cannot be harvested as readily as one would like.”
“A...weapon?”
“Indeed. One he can use to thwart a Master,” Frankenstein replied, putting significant emphasis on the title. “Though, truthfully, I have no intention of allowing that. We already have too many nuclear-level threats unaccounted for as things stand.”
The doctor waved his arms about as though none of that mattered, before being reminded of our current situation thanks in part to an impatient comment from Mabel; the elf still held the requisitioned knife out where I could see it, waving it back and forth like a treat. He clapped his gloved hands together and slid them against each other briskly.
“Quite right, Mabel. In any case, simply put, Herr Frost is doing me a favor, though he is, as of yet, unaware of that. Of course, it will not matter to him one way or the other, in the end.”
“Why...not?”
“Doctor…” Mabel growled.
“Yes, Mabel, I know. But as our patient, she is as entitled to her questions as we are to take her apart. Such is the contract we make.” Frankenstein flashed a doting smile on his deranged assistant, then returned his attention to me. “As for your question, fräulein, you should know by now that Herr Frost belongs to me.”
“How?”
“Ah, well, I would like to think he would have served me of his own free will, eventually. But unfortunately, I found myself pressed for time. So I used the devourer he procured for me some time ago to...ease his troubled, inconsistent soul. The poor creature had lost his purpose, you see, and purpose for beings like him is everything, as knowledge is for men like me.” Frankenstein smirked at my withering scorn, anticipating my reaction. “You may not care for my methods, but it was for his own good, was it not, Mabel?”
�
�Of course, Master!” Mabel replied, leaning forward so eagerly that she pressed her bony chest against my arm. “Ryan never would have left that stupid bitch if you hadn’t convinced him to.”
“Ah, yes. Calypso. Fascinating creature. Did you know nymphs have stomachs, but no need to eat or drink? Nor do they produce waste of any sort. I would not have believed it if I had not cut her open, myself.”
I licked my suddenly dry lips, my pulse speeding up at the doctor’s casual reference to the dissection of a witch who’d kept Odysseus in her clutches for years before releasing him to return home at the gods’ behest. Worse, of course, was the knowledge that he’d used the devourer Ryan had stolen from me to gain control of my old friend.
“Then why..is Ryan...in Atlantis?” I asked, retreading old ground in a desperate grab for more time. I’d already begun calling to the goddess within, begging her to lend me the power I’d used to back Freya down. But nothing came.
“I see we are going in circles now. Let us say that access to the city is of particular interest to those I work with and leave it at that,” Frankenstein replied, patting my naked shoulder and ignoring my subsequent flinch. “You should know I intended to send you along with Herr Frost, before I saw what you could do. He was quite adamant that you join him. Remarkable, really, considering how little of his personality was left by the time I was through. It is too bad we will have to disappoint our mutual friend, but I really must see how you work. As I said before, knowledge is everything.”
Brimstone Kiss: Phantom Queen Book 10 - A Temple Verse Series (The Phantom Queen Diaries) Page 16