by Laura Rahme
Chapter 15
Aaron’s Plan
August 1848
“πάντα χωρεῖ καὶ οὐδὲν μένει” – Ἡράκλειτος
“Everything flows, and nothing abides.” – Heraclitus
WITH his back facing the Power cage, Aaron could sense its vindictive gaze behind him, the lidless eyes drilling into him.
Shortly after Calista’s death, he had lost all desire to carry out further experiments. Even if she still lived, it would have been too dangerous – what with Ovee having shown yet more signs of aggression. He was resigned to the idea of abandoning the quest he had embarked on for so many years. He had no choice but to end it all.
He had prepared a poison. Enough to kill an animal the size of Ovee. The vial he’d filled weeks ago lay on the corner of his work table, taunting him daily. And though it occasionally caught his eye, he had not yet decided on the date. For to administer poison spelt failure, and it wounded Aaron to end it so abruptly.
So instead of reaching for the poison, he would spend idle hours in the underground, sitting silently at the large table, revisiting the journey of many years as recorded through his journals. At intervals he would pine for a substance to dull his mind, and he’d reach for a little glass vial which he’d filled with laudanum and whiskey, ever since she had died.
That loyal bottle was sensibly within reach and when he sipped at it, it brought a delicious foggy mist not devoid of pleasure. It always calmed him, even though it stirred another kind of monster. For Ovee seemed to know exactly when he had descended into his drugged state, and then it would watch him avidly, sensing that Aaron might be vulnerable.
No one else was with him in the cellar that afternoon, yet Aaron spoke out loud, irritated by the eyes that were forever watching him. He spoke to Ovee and by some profound mystery of nature, the creature seemed to understand all he had to say. As it often did, Ovee had left the Power cage and now it sat there, turned to a virulent reddish tone, and eyed Aaron from its sinister vantage point.
How it had grown. Ovee was now fully adult, not the tiny being found and packed by Greek divers and who’d eaten its siblings during the journey to England, surviving against all odds. Aaron knew it could rise and leap at him if it wished and he’d be no match for its strength and shapeshifting body. He’d had his fair share of surprises in the past when he’d cut off one of Ovee’s limbs only to see it regrow. But that was in the early days before the rage had settled in. Now the threat was real. There was enough hate in it to murder the entire house if it wished. It would want to start with Aaron, no doubt. If that were the case, then Aaron would only have to reach into his top drawer and find the revolver and while he might be under the effect of laudanum, he would surely not miss.
Those were the thoughts coursing in Aaron’s mind daily. But after two hours of seething tension between them, Aaron could no longer stand it. His voice rose in the underground chamber.
“You do not know the half of it, so don’t judge me,” he barked. “I’ve seen your kind before. You think I’ll let you live? That I’ll not deal with you the way I did the others?”
He turned his head, slowly, to confront the creature behind him. Beside the Power Cage, Ovee was resplendent. It looked almost regal, while the rageful colour on its body only gave it a more threatening appearance. In contrast, Aaron’s haggard chin lay buried in an unkempt grey beard that had reached his chest since his wife’s passing. Deep furrows lined his eyes and forehead, laying bare the twisted preoccupations of a lifetime.
“Years of planning, and it has come to this,” he muttered. “Don’t you look at me!” he thundered at the creature. Undeterred, the black and blue eyes followed his every move; attentive, predatory...knowing.
Aaron flinched. He grew attuned to a burning ache in his insides and as he stood to face Ovee, the pain intensified. He gripped the back of his chair and took a deep breath, passing a hand over his stomach.
“Damn.”
He reached for the familiar vial of laudanum and gulped the last of it, determined to drown whatever ailed him. Ovee still watched. It was almost fascinating to observe this creature’s will. Aaron was amused, but as he emptied the small bottle, he was instantly aware of an uncanny movement in Ovee. And in that black and blue gaze which never left him for a single second, Aaron saw what he would have never imagined in any animal, let alone a marine creature. For Ovee seemed to recoil slightly, its limbs appeared to relax, almost as if it were relieved, as though for the last hour, all it had done was not watch, but rather, wait.
Wait for that moment…
Aaron still held the laudanum bottle in his hand and his eyes now drifted to it and back at Ovee, then from Ovee and onto the bottle. An impossible thought crept into his mind and he stared, dumbfounded at the remaining vials assembled on the far end of the table, his eyes suddenly bulged.
A crippling spasm caught Aaron unaware. Buckled by pain, he brought the vial to the lamp on his desk. Squinting in vain to read the blurred label, he examined the colour of its contents. His jaw dropped. A bone chilling fear ran through him. Overcome by nausea, Aaron scrabbled across the desk for the poison he’d intended for Ovee. The label did not lie. It was the laudanum. “How!” he roared. How had he mistook the two? But he had not.
The two vials had been swapped. Aaron doubled over in pain. He reached for the revolver, aimed it towards the Power cage, then spun round, still aiming. But the astute Ovee had slid away unheard. It was already gone, hiding in the cellar, out of sight. It knew how to disappear.
“To the devil with you!”
Aaron looked around in desperation. There was little time. The poison had yet to invade his bloodstream. He had an hour at most. He was much larger than Ovee and perhaps he would find a way to delay the poison with a little milk. Then he would lock this place forever.
He fumbled to his journal, found the last page and tore it. Then, casting one last sorrowful look at the underground chamber that had failed to fulfil his dreams, he clambered up the staircase.
Days later when Mrs. Cleary, having wondered at length where he was, forced open his bedroom door, she discovered Aaron’s corpse on his bed, his altered will upon his lap. Upon fishing the document from a pool of vomit, she glimpsed the words, “Be wise and do not enter the cellar until the spring”, scribbled in frantic ink at the foot of the page.
She never looked beyond the bed, into the chimney ashes. And it did not matter, because the private letter Aaron had torn from his journal, in shame, was no longer there. The page had long been devoured by the flames, taking its secrets with it:
“It knows. It knows she is gone, never to return. It smells her death on me.
A quiet malice has possessed it since Calista has gone, and it grows more violent every day.
Last month, as I wrote in my journal, I felt it emerge from the Power cage. It was the first time I had witnessed this behaviour. Calista suspected it for weeks prior to her death, but I could not fathom it and so I did not believe her.
Now my fears have been made real, for the beast not only left its rightful place, but it seemed quite content to exist outside the water for almost an hour. And during that time, I felt it advance stealthily towards me.
For a few moments I dared not turn my head but I could feel its presence behind me. It has no voice, but the curling limbs possess in them an essence that screams of evil. I am to blame as the creator of its wrath.
In an instant, and shaking violently, I had seized the revolver in my drawer, loaded it, and aimed my weapon at this creature who had come to a halt near me. It stared back at me with such malevolence I might have thought it had in it some wickedness that resembled revenge.
I don’t know what came over me, but as I studied its eyes, I was overcome by a frightful notion. I could not move. I believed it to be her, my wife, and I could not pull the trigger.
In the meantime, it had somehow understood I meant to kill it, and it promptly returned to the water, stil
l staring at me with its blue and black eyes.
I have asked myself for the last months – why would I believe that Calista continues to live through Ovee? There is no answer. In my delusion, I have come to wonder whether the two of them might not remain bound by her magnetic energy, which has not only eluded death, but flowed elsewhere.
Have I erred?
For every time in the past years when I foolishly believed Calista dissipated the anger and the pain in each of these creatures, was she instead absorbing their rage inside of her?
And is she now returned, bound to this creature, animating it with the rage she carries within her?
If not, where has this rage gone to? It cannot be gone. For how can I explain the new dark patterns which the creature has exhibited before me ever since Calista’s death?
I have pondered now for months.
And each day, not a moment goes by when its bestial eyes are not upon me, following my every gesture. What can it see? What can it understand?
Does it suspect I intend to take its life? That soon, I will pour the poisonous liquid into its watery cage while it rests, and I will put an end to its wickedness.
Chapter 16
How to disappear
London, May 1853
WHITSUNDAY brought a throng of visitors to Regent Park. A great part of the thousands were regulars, taking advantage of this rare glorious day for an outing in London’s beautiful park. On this occasion, they were joined by the curious who had been lured upon hearing of the talk of town.
The Zoological Society had newly erected a building in the Zoological Gardens, and it was said that the structure was the first of its kind in the entire world.
Those who reached this building were astounded to discover that the ocean kingdom along the country’s southern coast, could be brought right here, in the middle of London, for their enjoyment.
“Ah, you’ve come to visit the aquatic vivarium,” said a well-to-do lady whom Maurice had approached for directions.
He’d not returned to London for almost five years. He’d arrived last week to attend a magical theatre piece where Madeleine featured as lead for the first time. Having a little spare time, he’d read about the new attraction at Regent Park and wandered off to this green oasis in the middle of London.
Maurice was surprised. The aquatic vivarium. Is that what it was called these days?
“Yes, where might I find it?” he asked.
The lady gave him instructions on how to reach the new building before enthusing, “It’s exceptional. You’ll love it. Are you fond of sea creatures?”
“I am,” replied Maurice.
He had strolled through the park, lost in thought, feeling the anticipation rise within him, until he finally reached the new glass and iron building.
He was surprised to discover a tug at his heart as he entered. Then a rush of emotions overcame him. The time had come to finally reunite with an old friend. A friend he had known for only a week.
A smile drew itself on his lips as he discovered the interior of this ‘Fish House’. Laid out on each side of the building, were Power cages. There were thirteen of them in total and each measured about six feet in length. Maurice drew near, his throat tight with emotion.
They were now called ponds or vivariums, and each of them were set in glass, with a sandy bottom littered with shells where seaweed grew in abundance and marine life thrived. The thirteen glass arrangements offered an exceptional show of colours and natural beauty that captivated visitors.
Maurice lingered near one of these ponds. Upon his face, was mirrored the wonder of children who peered intensely at the glass surface, enthralled by the rare glimpse into the treasures of the sea.
Behind him, Maurice could hear murmurs among the crowd.
“Never seen so many people,” observed a gentleman.
“It’s busier than last year,” agreed a lady.
“They didn’t have this last year, it only opened this month,” replied another.
“Yes, it is unique in the entire world,” assured the first man.
Maurice eavesdropped happily, taking in the whispers around him, feeling strangely at peace, almost invisible among the crowd. About him, children ran, calling out to each other, excitedly pointing at the different ponds to attract attention to each new sighting. Here a star fish, there a Crustacea, over there an odd-looking fish and look – there, a shell-fish, just behind that sea anemone – and oh, that name upon everyone’s lips: the aquatic vivarium. What a marvel!
After a long visit, Maurice had to resign himself: Ovee was not present.
He knew what animal to look for. But it seemed the Zoological Society had not judged it proper, as far as he could tell, to feature this creature in its aquatic vivarium.
Maurice had known the name of the creature for five years now. However, it wasn’t until he’d left Alexandra Hall and returned to his hometown in Normandy that it had struck him. It came to him in the form of a memory, words upon a page, Latin words buried among a scientific passage which he’d overlooked while searching through a book in Aaron Nightingale’s study; a book by a certain, Cuvier.
Aaron had been fond of initials. After all it was his own and Calista’s which graced the front doors of Alexandra Hall. He had also devised a means of naming his experimental subjects by employing the initials of their animal name.
The origin of the name, Ovee, had to be a set of initials. Aaron had written, Ovee where he could have easily scribed the letters, O and V.
The creature Cuvier had described in his volume was the same as the one Aristotle had observed centuries ago. It lived a mere year, perhaps a little longer.
“Excuse me, sir,” said Maurice to a tall attendant in charge of supervising the crowds.
“How may I help you, sir?” asked the gentleman.
“If you permit me asking, would I, by any chance, be likely to find the octopus vulgaris in the aquatic vivarium, today?”
The man smiled with indulgence and shook his head.
“Not today, I’m afraid. It might be some time until the vivarium comes to house such a creature. But visit again, perhaps next year, and you might be lucky.”
Maurice thanked him.
He left the building shortly after. He remembered a time, a long time ago, when he had been afraid of Ovee’s touch.
He thought of the night when this octopus vulgaris had held fast to his arms as he slept. How he’d awoken with red welts. He remembered the fear he’d felt as he discovered he was bruised from its tight embrace.
Why had it saved me?
He’d asked himself this question for years.
What secrets had it read within me?
Had it sensed we were alike?
Spring filled Regent Park with its blooms and Maurice stared in wonder at the gentle colours.
Like him, Ovee had been a vulnerable child once. It had learnt what it was like to be fed and housed by one’s torturer and to have no means to escape. It had known the soul-breaking dilemma of holding on to a home that was both a source of survival and pain. For while Calista gave Ovee her endless magical love and bonded with it like no one could, there also, in Alexandra Hall, lay Aaron’s cruelty and perversions. Like Maurice, Ovee had learnt to survive by keeping watch of every detail in its home. It had found ways to remain everywhere but unseen.
Maurice, too had known such a home, a home where the hand that fed him was the one that also hurt him. He had lived it. And then, there were countless others. Others for whom no one ever spoke.
Like Mary, who, while plucked from an orphanage and given a dignified profession, was brutalised by her mother. Unknown to Mary, her real mother was a certain Louise March, a ‘fallen woman’, who’d once tried to murder the bastard child in her womb before she was prevented. Her infant had been taken away to an orphanage. With the help of influential friends, Louise had changed her name to Mrs. Jane Cleary and managed to evade being sent to a penal colony. She found and adopted Mary whom she beat me
rcilessly whenever fear and tension within her rose to unbearable levels.
Maurice walked to the edge of Regent Park, where he hoped to meet Madeleine. He had now become a lone figure in the blooming expense of Regent Park. His thoughts so absorbed him that he became unaware of the crowds. And it was strange, for in his mind, he had completely disappeared and nothing could touch him.
All the trauma Aaron had inflicted upon Ovee had gifted it with a sense for recognising this same pain in others. Yes, thought Maurice, we were the same. I don’t know how, but it knew this.
Ovee was caged in a torturous existence, yet it had survived, feeding on Calista’s love until her murder.
Upon avenging Calista, it could have left itself to die. Yet it grew restless in its last days. It went hunting, perhaps for more rats. It ransacked the kitchen, the many rooms of Alexandra Hall… it shape-shifted, like a colourful illusion. In despair, it returned to Calista’s bedroom, absorbing the last of her love…the last of her energy. Ellen had even seen it pressed against Calista’s window and believed it was a face…
The days passed, and Ovee weakened.
Yet something kept it alive in that last week, aroused its curiosity, sustained it, and awakened in it something new.
That something was Maurice.
The day had come when, nearing death, it had employed the last of its strength to overpower Louise March and save Maurice’s life.
Maurice smiled. Ovee wished to save me.
He felt a warm comfort as he recalled what had taken place five years ago in Alexandra Hall’s cellar. The violence no longer haunted him. In its stead was a nurturing caress, a gentle reminder that he was far from alone; for Ovee had seen through him; it had recognised the wounds in him and understood everything he had once lived.
And whereas there were many who saw and did nothing, Ovee had used its dying breath to save his life.
Maurice believed this with all his heart, and he repeated it to himself now, as he would, for many years to come. It was a simple thought, but to him, it meant everything.