This Dark Endeavor

by Kenneth Oppel

  I wiggled my soon to be amputated fingers. “‘Close at hand,’” I said to Polidori. “That was what you said earlier. Was that a joke?”

  “I did not realize it,” the alchemist said with a small smile.

  I looked down at my fingers. I did not really believe I was about to lose them, for my mind kept veering away from the idea, refusing to let me comprehend it completely. But:

  They would be gone.

  Suddenly I felt a greedy animal fear keen within me. I could not be brave much longer.

  “Do it!” I cried. “Do it now!”

  “Young miss, if you would make sure the site is kept clean.”

  Elizabeth sat down on a small stool, her back to me, and I was very grateful she blocked my view. I felt my smallest finger separated from its fellows by a large wooden peg—splayed off to one side to make it easier for my surgeon.

  “I will be quick,” Polidori promised.

  I felt the brief, light touch of a chisel’s edge against the place where my fifth finger met my hand. Then the instrument was lifted away.

  “No, the narrower one, I think, please,” Polidori told Elizabeth.

  A second cold chisel was placed against my hand, its pressure firmer and sharper this time, testing. I caught a glimpse of Polidori’s arm raised high with the mallet, and I clenched my eyes shut. What followed was a blow that seemed to travel through every bone and ligament of my body, to the very roots of my teeth.

  There was no pain, not one bit—not yet.

  “Please staunch the flow of blood,” I heard the alchemist tell Elizabeth, “while I proceed with the second finger.”

  Dimly I felt the wooden peg separate my fourth finger from the others, felt a chisel tap once more against my flesh. I scarcely felt the blow that severed my finger forever from my body.

  “It is done,” said Polidori—

  And then came the pain, twin lightning bolts coursing through my missing fingers, my wrist, and up my arm.

  I cried out. I do not know what I uttered, only that noise and curses came in a torrent from my mouth, and my body arched. I was vaguely aware of Polidori saying to Henry:

  “Bring me the poker from the fire, please.”

  Time was not making sense anymore, for almost immediately Henry stood there with a metal rod, three inches of its tip glowing orange, making my friend look altogether devilish. Light-headed, I managed to croak:

  “What is that for?”

  Huge thudding pain pulsed in my hand, in sync with my racing heartbeat. I imagined all my blood pumping out through the twin wounds, and my vision swam.

  “We must cauterize the wounds, young master,” Polidori said. “To stop the bleeding and prevent infection.”

  I caught sight of Henry glimpsing my hand, and saw his face lose all its color.

  Swiftly Polidori took the poker. “Remove the cotton,” he told Elizabeth. She turned to me. Her face was drawn, but she gave a valiant smile. She put her hands on my shoulders, pressed her cheek against mine.

  “It’s almost over,” she whispered, and then came a searing pain so overwhelming that it bundled me up inside it and tumbled me over and over into darkness.

  When I regained consciousness, Elizabeth was standing over me, mopping my forehead with a cool cloth. I just stared at her, and thought her the most beautiful thing in all the wide world. If only I could be allowed to stare at her like this, I would be a happy man.

  “He’s awake!” she said, and I realized Henry was standing at my other side, looking at me with concern.

  “How long?” I croaked.

  “Two hours,” she said, and leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “Thank God, thank God.”

  Her hair fell around me, and her scent embraced me, but it wasn’t enough to ward off the pain. It came with a fury, a hot rhythmic anvil pounding.

  “How’s my hand?” I asked.

  “It was well done,” said Elizabeth, nodding as though to reassure herself as much as me. “Very clean and quick. And the bleeding has all but stopped.”

  She stepped to one side so I could look down at my hand. Bandages bound my palm, wrapped round and round the place where my fourth and fifth fingers had once been. I wiggled my remaining three fingers, just to assure myself that they were still attached. It did not look so very odd. One would scarcely notice. But for a moment I imagined Mother’s heartbroken face when she next beheld me, and tears welled up in my eyes.

  “What have I done?” I whispered. “Dear God …”

  “You have done the bravest thing I’ve ever seen, my friend,” said Henry fervently.

  “Indeed you have,” said Elizabeth.

  I tore my gaze from my forever crippled hand and saw, across the cellar, Polidori hunched industriously over a worktable.

  I tried to sit up, and a wave of queasiness crested over me.

  “Slowly does it,” said Henry, taking hold of my left arm to steady me. “You lost a good deal of blood.”

  “Did I?” I asked Elizabeth.

  “Not so very much,” she said, and narrowed her eyes at Henry. “It looked more than it was.”

  I swung my legs over the side of the table, paused to let my stomach settle, and then stood. The floor seemed a very great distance away. It took me several moments to catch my breath. Henry and Elizabeth each took an arm. I shuffled over to Polidori.

  “How goes it with the elixir?”

  He did not look up from his work. “Young master, you’d be better off resting comfortably. Your body has suffered quite an insult, and you might not enjoy seeing my work.”

  I saw it. I heard Henry’s swallow. My two severed fingers rested on a metal tray. The skin and tissue and muscle had already been removed from one of them, leaving only the bones themselves. There was a good amount of blood and pulpy matter.

  “I will not watch,” said Henry. He crossed the room and sat at Polidori’s paper-strewn desk.

  Elizabeth and I remained. She pulled a stool over for me, and helped me sit upon it, for I was still very weak and shaky.

  It was horrible yet strangely fascinating to watch Polidori as he picked up a short brutal-looking instrument and sawed through one of the bones. Then, with an ingeniously thin, hooked pick, he started to extract the marrow and deposit it in a small vial that rested within a larger flask filled with ice.

  “It is important the marrow be kept cold,” he murmured as he worked.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “To prolong the life of the animating spirit that dwells within it,” he replied. “Of all human marvels, it is believed that the greatest healing properties lie within the marrow.”

  It sounded most strange and wondrous to me—but not so very different from Dr. Murnau’s pronouncements on human blood, and the many cells that lived within it.

  “How many doses will it yield?” I asked. “How shall we administer it to my brother?”

  “It will be just one dose,” said Polidori, “and must all be taken at once, by mouth.”

  He had finished extracting all the marrow from my fourth finger bones, and was now expertly flaying the skin and tissue from my smallest finger. His expression as he worked was one of immense and emotionless concentration.

  On a shelf above his worktable I saw two vials.

  “Are those the other ingredients?” Elizabeth asked, following my gaze.

  “Indeed. The coelacanth oil and the lunar lichen. Once I extract the last of the marrow, I will combine the ingredients.”

  “We’ll be able to take it home tonight, then,” I said with a glad heart. Konrad would have the elixir within hours.

  “Sadly, no,” Polidori replied as he worked. “The elixir must be left for an entire day to build to its full power. You will need to come back tomorrow to collect it.”

  Faintly, through the cellar walls, came the tolling of Saint Peter’s. Eight bells.

  “It is best you go now,” the alchemist said. “I will have it ready for you tomorrow.”

  “He is very clo
se to death,” Elizabeth said anxiously. “What if he does not survive the night?”

  “I am sorry, miss,” said the alchemist. “It cannot be hurried.”

  “Can we not take the elixir home with us now,” I asked desperately, “and store it safely until it is ready?”

  “No,” said Polidori, “there is one final treatment that must take place just before it is imbibed.”

  “Could you write us down clear instructions?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Your recipe for the wolf vision tincture was wonderfully clear,” I said. “I’m sure I could—”

  With uncharacteristic terseness he said, “It is a procedure I must perform myself.” Then his tone softened. “I am only thinking of your brother and his best success for recovery. Let me do this for him. If you cannot return, I will send Krake to deliver it to you.”

  Even if I had been willing to wait, I was not willing to tell Polidori where we lived. Should he find out our family name, he might fly into a fury and refuse to help us further. I quickly thought of another excuse.

  “But Krake might break it by accident. It is better we take it now.”

  “Krake treads with a velvet step,” said Polidori. “He is less likely to break it than you. I am sorry, but it must wait a day so I can make the final preparations.”

  “There seems nothing we can do, then,” I muttered. I looked at Henry across the room and saw him staring at me urgently.

  Carefully I lowered myself from the stool. For a second I needed to hold the seat for balance.

  “Are you all right?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Yes. I just need a few steps to clear my head.” I walked slowly about the laboratory, making my way gradually toward Henry. When I reached him, he silently pushed a piece of paper into my hand and put his finger to his lips.

  On the paper, he’d written simply:

  He lies.

  Henry tapped a parchment on Polidori’s cluttered desk. I could see it had to be some bit of translation for the elixir, for among the many fierce scratch-outs were characters I recognized from the Alphabet of the Magi, and then several other alphabets, one of which was Greek—my weakest subject. Henry was jabbing his finger at a particular sentence. In vain I tried to decipher it. I looked at Henry and shook my head. Impatiently he gestured me closer, then whispered in my ear.

  “It says here, ‘The elixir must be imbibed within four hours, after the three ingredients have been combined.’”

  Despite the heat of the cellar, I shivered. It was like I was suddenly seeing the world through a different lens. The haze that had veiled everything since the surgery evaporated, and everything was sharper—and much, much more dangerous.

  I forced myself to take five deep breaths, then made my way back to Polidori’s workbench, where he was in the process of mixing the ingredients into a single flask. I needed to be very calm.

  “There it is,” said Elizabeth.

  The Elixir of Life.

  It did not look inspiring. It did not gleam and refract the candlelight into a thousand rainbows of promise. It was murky brown and oily. I watched as Polidori pushed in a stopper and slipped the flask into a snug padded leather sheath.

  “Mr. Polidori,” I said, “we’ve been very remiss in not offering you payment sooner. You have worked long and hard for us, and received nothing. I apologize. You must tell us what it is we owe you for your excellent services, and we can settle accounts now. Simply name your price.” If he meant to cheat us of the elixir—if he’d maybe promised it to someone else at a vast price—maybe I could change his mind. “We’re wealthy people, and—”

  “My dear sir,” Polidori said, beholding me with such an affable look that I wondered if Henry was mistaken. “Let us first see if the elixir has its desired effect. If it does, the recipe itself is payment enough for me. Now, have you a conveyance to take you home? I could send for a carriage—”

  “Quite unnecessary, thank you,” I said. “Are you sure there is no way we could take the elixir away with us tonight?”

  He seemed about to object once more, but with a sigh he nodded. “Very well. I can see how concerned you are about your brother.”

  I exhaled with relief, and smiled over at Henry. We were mistaken. Perhaps my friend’s knowledge of Greek was not as perfect as I’d imagined.

  “Thank you, Mr. Polidori!” said Elizabeth. “It eases my mind greatly.”

  “Just give me a moment to fetch a preserving agent from upstairs,” he said, wheeling himself away from his workbench toward the elevator. “Then I will change the dressings on your wounds once more, young master, and write down very detailed instructions on how to perform the final preparations before the elixir is taken.”

  “I’m very grateful,” I said.

  I looked past Polidori at Henry and saw him desperately shaking his head. He still didn’t trust the alchemist. But why not? He was just going upstairs to—and then I remembered. All the drawers in his shop were completely empty. There could be nothing he needed up there. My eyes flew to the workbench. The flask of elixir was gone. I turned to see Polidori already halfway to the elevator.

  He meant to leave us trapped in the cellar.

  At the exact same moment, Henry and I ran and planted ourselves in front of Polidori’s weelchair. He looked at us in surprise. I saw the stoppered flask of elixir in his lap. I could not keep the tremor from my voice.

  “Mr. Polidori, I must ask that you give me the elixir now.”

  He gave a chuckle. “Good heavens, are you worried I’ll abscond with it? In my chair? If it makes you feel better, here—hold it yourself.”

  With his left hand he held out the leather-clad flask.

  And with his right he pulled from his chair a cane with a clubbed end. Without warning he swung it expertly and struck Henry in the head. Henry did not even cry out, just crumpled to the floor, and was deadly still.

  “Henry!” Elizabeth cried in horror.

  “You fiend!” I roared.

  He seemed all at once a transformed creature. Gone was the mild expression, the air of defeat. His face blazed with a ruthless strength, and his upper body no longer sagged. He sat bolt upright, his shirt taut against his barrel chest. His forearms, with their sleeves rolled back, were ridged with muscle.

  He launched his chair at me with such force that he knocked me over. I landed on my wounded hand and howled with pain.

  From the corner of my eye I saw him raise his cane over me like an executioner’s axe. I rolled out of the way just as the clubbed head cracked down upon the flagstone. Polidori swiveled expertly to face me, cane raised once more. I scrabbled crablike, pain shooting up my right arm. His chair struck me again, sending me sprawling.

  Wig askew, he glowered over me. He had me backed against a wall, and even as I lifted my arm to ward off the blow, I knew it was futile. That club would shatter my bones.

  A poker struck Polidori on the shoulder so hard that he dropped his cane with a yowl. I looked over and saw Elizabeth gripping the weapon.

  “Hit him again!” I shouted.

  “He’s in a wheelchair!” Elizabeth cried.

  “He means to kill us!”

  I lunged to the side and tried to snatch up Polidori’s devilish cane, but from the bottom of his chair, from all sides, sprang long wickedly sharp blades. One very nearly impaled my leg as I leapt up onto a worktable, sending glassware shattering.

  “Look out!” I shouted to Elizabeth. “His chair’s spiked!”

  Polidori snatched up his cane and turned on Elizabeth. He was a demon in his chair, riding it like a malevolent barbed steed, driving her into a corner.

  From the table I grasped a heavy flask full of vile-smelling liquid and hurled it at Polidori. It shattered against his skull. Instantly his wig began to smoke and melt, releasing acrid vapors. He gave a cry and ripped the wig from his head. On his bald scalp a few red welts were already blooming.

  Cursing, he swerved away from Elizabeth and launched himself toward the sink. It
gave her the chance to run clear, and together we rushed to Henry, still sprawled on the ground, though moaning now. Alive! I shook him roughly.

  “Henry, get up! Get up!”

  His eyes opened blearily. I looked around in a frenzy and saw Polidori with his head bent under the water pump, trying to flush the acid from his flesh.

  “We must go!” said Elizabeth, helping me pull Henry to his feet. “The elevator!”

  “Not without the elixir!” I said.

  I snatched the poker from Elizabeth and ran toward Polidori.

  Before I reached him, he whirled his chair round to confront me. His face was livid with acid burns, and anger emanated from his face like a kiln’s heat. I stayed well back from the chair’s wicked blades. I could not see his cane. Polidori’s hands slipped into the large pockets of his vest, no doubt concealing the flask of elixir, for it was no longer in his lap.

  “Give it to me,” I said, poker held high over my shoulder. “It contains only my marrow. It’s useless to anyone but my brother.” My stomach churned. “Or was that a lie too?”

  “Indeed it was. Any marrow would suffice.”

  We’d merely been Polidori’s pawns, used to gather ingredients—used to sacrifice our body parts. I felt a rage building inside me, and I welcomed it.

  “You monster!” I spat.

  “I did not want it to be this way, young master,” he said, with a trace of what seemed genuine ruefulness. “My plan was to make two doses of the elixir. One for your brother. One for myself.”

  “Why didn’t you, then?” I demanded.

  “You did not bring me enough lichen from the tree.”

  With a sick heart I remembered how I’d forced Elizabeth to abandon her task before her vial was full.

  “We had no choice,” Elizabeth said. “There was lightning, and the vultures!”

  “I completely understand,” said Polidori. “But the result was that I had ingredients for one dose only. The good news, for you, young master, is that I only needed to take two fingers, and not four.”

  “The elixir’s mine! Give it to me!”

  “Very well,” said the alchemist.

  Both hands flew from his pockets. In the palm of one was a mound of yellow powder. In the other was some kind of tinderbox, which was instantly aflame. He raised the powder to his lips and blew, igniting a comet of fire that streamed toward me.