by Cindy Winget
Victor sat up and looked at his reflection in the water. The moonlight lit up his features and he saw the gauntness of his own face. He contemplated giving up right then and there. Throwing himself into the cold dark depths of that pond and never coming back up. If he didn’t think that one more death would be too much for his poor father and Elizabeth, he would have done so.
Besides that, if he were to leave this world, who would protect his family from more mischief perpetrated by that demon he had created? What was to stop Dracula from further harming Victor’s loved ones? In their ignorance of him, they were wholly unprotected.
Yes, Dracula had become him, no longer the it that Victor had always thought of him as. He was well aware now of Dracula’s cunning and intelligence, unlike the mindless animal that Victor had believed him to be. Dracula was indeed a reasoning and thinking being. It would take all of Victor’s fortitude to thwart whatever evil scheme he had in mind.
*****
Over the course of the next several months, Victor began to crave solitude. He hid away from the world as much as possible. While in the presence of his family or Henry, he would plaster on a smile and fake enthusiasm, but when the façade became too exhausting he would retreat to his bedroom.
Alphonse Frankenstein was understandably upset by this behavior. He took it upon himself to talk some sense into the boy when next he was given the chance.
“Victor, excessive sorrow strips away all our usefulness. Our dead loved ones wouldn’t want that. I know it is a hard and sorrowful thing that our family has had to endure, but let us try to put it behind us and move forward.” He reached out and placed a hand upon Victor’s shoulder, looking him in the eye.
“You worry me, son. You seem to have more heartache now than you had at the passing of your dear mother. I hesitate to say that you loved your mother more than William, but it seems to me that you would have felt more sorrow at her passing since William was but a young babe when you left for school. The only conclusion I can come to is that you must have had a romantic attachment to Justine. You seemed even more fervently assured of her innocence than even Elizabeth, who had been like a sister to the poor girl. Is this the reason for your continuing sorrow and seemingly inconsolable attitude?”
“No, Father. I admired Justine very much, but I was not in love with her.”
“Or, perhaps, you have fallen in love with someone else at school and you contemplate that since you are home now, I would strive to push you into marrying your cousin, as was your mother’s dying wish. I can see now that perhaps growing up the way you did with Elizabeth, that you view her as a sister, and nothing more. Do you hide yourself away because you are missing someone?”
“My heart has only ever belonged to Elizabeth.”
Alphonse seemed to feel some relief at this assurance. “Then what is it? Surely this unhealthy grief is not natural. You have spiraled into a deep depression that I cannot account for.” Tears filled Alphonse’s eyes.
“There is a reason. More than simply my grief over the death of William and Justine, but I cannot tell you. It would break me in ways you cannot fathom to have to confess such things to my father. A man who has been nothing but kind and generous and for whom I owe my entire life. I shall get better in time. I promise,” Victor said, although he did not believe his own words.
It looked as though his father was about to contest this statement and pursue his line of questioning further, but to Victor’s vast relief, he let it go. Something in his expression must have convinced his father that he would get no more information out of Victor than that. Alphonse nodded and allowed him to quickly leave the room.
Thereafter, Victor endeavored to act even more cheerful in his father’s presence so as not to make him worry, but he couldn’t help but wonder where Dracula was now and what he was doing.
Weeks later, his father announced that they had all been cooped up in the house for far too long and that what they all needed was a holiday. He proposed that they travel to Chamounix, a scenic valley that the family had always loved to visit during the summer. He assured them that the fresh air and beautiful vistas would help cheer them all up.
Victor found that some of his melancholy did abate as he gazed out at the beautiful grassy fields that stretched forth in all directions until they met with the winding path of the Arve River. The family traversed its depths by traveling over the Pelissier Bridge, a favorite of Victor’s since boyhood. A ravine dropped off the other side, giving character and variety to the scene. But all of this paled to the sight of the highest and most grand peak, Mount Blanc. In the shadows of this great mountain lay crumbling castles and cottages. Victor also caught glimpses of deer, foxes, and rabbits.
The family stopped at a picturesque spot by the river and had a picnic, joking and laughing as they had in times past, allowing themselves to forget their troubles for a time. Victor wondered idly if perhaps, given time, he could live out a relatively happy life with Elizabeth by his side and a whole slew of children who called him papa. They would name their first son William and that small and precious boy would help heal the wounds in their hearts.
They made it to the rented cottage, where they would be spending the next fortnight, just as a light drizzle of rain began. They passed a very delightful evening in each other’s company, swapping stories and eating delicious sauerkraut, alongside roasted potatoes and seasoned sausage. They even had some strudel for desert. As he chugged down his third cup of ale, he told his family of the more diverse foods of England and demanded that if ever they were in that country, they would have to try an English trifle. The only thing that could have made it better was if Henry had decided to join their excursion. However, he had declined, claiming that he had already been gone from his business long enough, and he needed to help his father attend to things.
The following morning, Victor awoke early and set out on a solitary hike up Mount Montanvert. It had only recently stopped raining, and the mountains were shrouded in mist. The air was crisp, his breath billowing out in front of him. The ascent was arduous, but the exertion did Victor some good. He quite enjoyed the gentle burn in his muscles, stopping only when a stitch in his side demanded it. In a few hours’ time he had made it to the summit and sat down upon a rock, giving himself up to reflection. He contemplated on how small being in the mountains always made him feel, and yet how connected to the fabric of life. He took in the wondrous panoramic views.
Through the snow and ice that clung determinately to the peak of the mountain, Victor glimpsed movement. At first, he thought some animal must be out and about in search of breakfast, but as he cast his eyes in that direction, he saw to his amazement that it was a man. The man continued toward him in a seemingly single-minded manner, as though he was purposefully making his way toward Victor.
Victor perceived that the figure moved with inhuman speed that belied the slickness of the snow-covered rocks and the icy ground that he tread upon. He seemed unaffected by the cold. Unlike Victor, who wore a long greatcoat with fur stitched to the inner lining and leather gloves, this man wore only a light white linen shirt and vest. No jacket or coat of any kind.
As he drew near, Victor noticed the greatness of his stature and was startled to realize that it was the fiend. Dracula had followed him here! He seemed bent on talking, or else attacking, Victor. Well, let him come. Victor welcomed the opportunity to vent his grief and anger upon this creature who had caused so much pain and misery.
Expecting to be accosted by his monstrous creation upon his arrival, Victor was surprised to note the look of bitter anguish and disdain upon Dracula’s face as he drew near.
“What right do you have to look at me so?” cried Victor. “It should be me that looks upon you with such contempt. Be gone! Before I extinguish that life which I have so thoughtlessly bestowed upon you.”
“Yes. It was thoughtlessly bestowed. I expected this reception from you, for I have been feared, hated, and persecuted since I took my first breath. What rig
ht do I have to live when my very creator looks upon me with such loathing as I see upon your face. Yet I do live, because of you. You, who ought to have bestowed some kindness upon me as your creation, having instead treated me with nothing but fear, scorn, and abandonment. Do your duty by me and I shall leave you, and all humanity, alone. Otherwise, I shall glut myself on the blood of your remaining friends and family.”
“Duty? What duty do I owe you? Is not life enough? Are we not even now? You have already taken two innocent lives. Does this not erase any perceived debt that I owe you for being disloyal to you?”
With all the anger, hatred, and sorrow that Victor had felt these past weeks, he propelled his fist into the demon’s face. To his dismay, it seemed to have little effect on the brute. Victor’s anger was renewed, owing to the fact that he could not make this creature hurt outwardly the way that he hurt inwardly, and he once again cocked his fist back and let it fly.
Dracula easily dodged the blow. “Although my life is wretched, it is still dear to me, and I will defend myself against you, even at the expense of yours. Trust me when I say that this is not a fight that you shall win. At least hear me out before you vent your hatred upon me. I deserve that much from you. Listen to my tale.”
Victor stopped his assault. Some part of him did believe that as the creator of this beast, he had the responsibility to let the monster explain himself. Besides, he wanted to know for certain, to hear it from the very lips of his creation, that the fiend had murdered William and framed Justine. A small, but hopeful, part of him wished for Dracula to exonerate himself, to point the blame elsewhere. If that was the case, then Victor himself could be vindicated and set free from his own guilt. If not, he would be justified in taking his revenge at the end of Dracula’s story.
As though reading Victor’s thoughts, Dracula said, “At the end of my tale you can judge my actions and either commiserate, abandon, or kill me as you see fit. By human laws, are not the guilty allowed to defend themselves before being condemned? You accuse me of murder, but were you not just now willing to murder me, the work of thy hands? Listen to me Frankenstein, and upon my conditions being met, I promise with a solemn oath to do no man harm forevermore.”
At a nod from Victor, Dracula continued, “I was once good and virtuous, but misery has turned me into a fiend. Make me happy once more and I will once again be benevolent. When you created me, you didn’t take into account my soul. I don’t know if I even have one. Without which, you have forced me to suck the life blood out of unsuspecting victims in order to sustain my wretched life. You have made me monstrous in appearance and this has caused the rest of your fellows to hate me.”
“I made you using only the best materials I could recover.”
“It is true that I am more agile than those around me. I can withstand the cold and heat better, have clearer sight, and am in general superior to all others in speed and strength, but I am also ugly, and this is an offense that humankind does not forgive easily.”
How had that brute who had awoken upon Victor’s dissection table learned to speak with such elegance and sophistication? Victor seemed to recall no manner of speech at all, only grunts and groans. His curiosity was piqued in spite of himself. What exactly had the fiend been up to for the past year and a half?
“I will listen to your tale,” acquiesced Victor.
Dracula nodded and sat upon a rock opposite him, obviously settling in for a long explanation. “Thank you. I must start at the beginning. The tale will be long, but I hope at the end of it, you will see the motivation behind my actions.”
Chapter Fifteen
Dracula hung his head, as though already weary from the telling of his tale, though he had scarcely begun.
“I was like unto a baby when first I awoke in your laboratory. I didn’t know night from day, could not properly distinguish sounds and shapes. I didn’t know what I was. All that first day I wandered about your laboratory, not knowing what to do with myself. As I sat looking out the window and pondering why the light in the sky began to lower and the world began to darken, there appeared five men by my side. They spoke to me, but in my ignorance, I knew not what they were saying. They drew what I now know as a five-pointed star upon the wooden floor in white chalk and each man stood at a point. Then one of them began to chant and lit a black candle. The other men did likewise. They each in turn slit a wrist and dribbled their blood into my mouth. The taste of it was foul; metallic and salty. The man who had done the chanting, spoke a few words to me, and then they left. I later realized that he had told me that they would one day return.
“I lay upon your bed, as I had seen you do, and in time was fast asleep. When I awoke, I wandered outside and heard the sound of birds chirping, but could not imitate their sounds. My stomach began to plague me with rumblings and noises. I watched the birds for a time and discovered that they would eat worms from the ground or fruit from the trees. I gave both of these cuisines a try, but I found them distasteful and unsatisfying.
“I came upon a fox who had just killed a fresh rabbit. My presence scared it away, and in its haste it left behind its prey. I ate the rabbit and found it much more to my liking. I devised a plan to set a trap for bigger game and eventually succeeded in catching a deer. I sank my long sharp teeth into the deer’s neck and as the blood burst forth into my mouth, I discovered that just drinking the blood, fresh and warm, was even more satisfying than the rabbit. The blood was not disgusting this time, but rather delicious and desirable. Remembering the men who had dripped their blood into my mouth, I thought that perhaps this is what I was supposed to eat. Afterwards this was my only diet.
“I observed everything around me, trying to make sense of the world and my place in it. I noticed that after a few hours the big ball of light in the sky once more disappeared, light and warmth leaving along with it, and that another sphere took its place in the sky and gave forth light, though of a lesser brightness. Eventually the ball of fierce light and warmth would return to dominance and this was repeated, like a sort of cosmic dance.
“I watched the creatures around me, from the smallest ant to the large bears and wolves. I saw that some animals ate only meat and others only vegetation and fruit and still others ate both. I came to the realization that I possessed no fur like these others, and none but I stood and walked erectly on only two feet. I also cast no shadow. What manner of creature was I?
“One day, I found a large white creature with black spots lazily eating the grass in what I now know to be a field. To my amazement the creature did not run from my presence as the animals of the forest had. I slowly began to realize that these creatures were so docile because they were domesticated livestock, used to human presence, and were therefore an easy meal. In addition to cows, I soon came across sheep, chickens, goats, and pigs. Although these creatures were easy pickings, I found myself bored with them and much preferred to stalk and hunt my prey, which I had gotten quite proficient at by this point.
“I stumbled upon a young shepherd, though I didn’t know that at the time, and noticed that he too stood on two feet and had similar features to my own. I came to the slow conclusion that whatever manner of creature he was, is what I was as well.
“Then one day, I came upon an older gentleman who was sitting by a fire. He was frightened at my disfigured face and large proportions. Out of some primal instinct I grabbed a hold of the man as he tried to flee and sank my teeth deep into his jugular, finding the artery, and sucking out his life blood. To my utter delight I found that the blood of man was the most desirable of them all; more satisfying than any animal I had previously fed upon.
“That is when I first got the impression that I was different. I had caught glimpses of myself in mountain streams and although I was similar in appearance to this creature that I had just killed, I was also different in many ways; much larger and uglier. In all my observations, I saw that animals never ate their own kind. It further dawned on me that the few humans I had seen had shadows like un
to the animals of the forest, whilst I did not.
“But that was by no means the end of it. The Carpathian Mountains are rampant with wolves and I found that I had a natural affinity for them, as well with smaller creatures such as bats and rats. It turns out that I can turn into any of these creatures I like, at will. I can also coalesce with the mist, becoming one with the elements around me. I found that these traits aided me in procuring nourishment.”
This was a shocking development to Victor. After talking with the woman at the market bazaar, he had anticipated the need for blood, but these other powers were unlike anything he had heard of before. He worked hard, however, at keeping the surprise from his face and didn’t interrupt Dracula’s tale.
“Delighted by the light and warmth of the fire, I thrust my hands directly into the flames and was disheartened to discover that the joy I had felt upon first seeing it was turned to pain as my hands were burned. I admit that the pure destructive power of this new element frightened me, and I was a long time in healing from its effects. The man had been roasting nuts and roots and had some bread and cheese in a knapsack close by. I tried each one, but again, was not pleased with the flavor.
“There was a stack of wood next to the fire, and I realized that this was what fed the flames. I stayed there for a time, adding logs whenever it got low. When the stack disappeared, I gathered more from the forest. I was delighted to see that when the darkness came, the fire remained, and I could retain its warmth and light. I stayed there for a time, continuously feeding the fire, for I feared it dying out, having no knowledge of how to replicate the process. But as winter began to set in, my need for shelter began to outweigh the delight I felt in the fire, so though I hated to leave it, I moved on.
“I discovered a small hovel connected to a larger house and crawled inside, finding it desirable as it kept me out of the snow and wind and the floor was at least dry. I covered up the many chinks and holes in the walls by placing bits of wood and rocks in front of them and also covered the entrance, making it easily removable so that I could get out when I needed to. I was kept warm by my proximity to the chimney and the fact that I needed less heat than the average man.