European Travel for the Monstrous Gentlewoman

by Theodora Goss

  Lucinda stepped forward. “I wish to see my father.”

  Ayesha looked surprised and concerned. “Is that wise? He is still here, being held in a storage room until the end of the conference, when I will have time to deal with him. But are you prepared for such a confrontation?”

  Lucinda did not answer. She looked steadily and defiantly at the president of the Alchemical Society.

  “Very well,” said Ayesha. “Leo, could you take her down? Frau Gottleib is on guard at present.”

  “I’ll go with her,” said Justine. “Come, Lucinda. I shall be with you the whole time.”

  When Justine and Lucinda had left, followed by Leo Vincey, Mary said, “We have considered your invitation to join the society and view the archives. We accept the second of those offers. As for the first—Beatrice?” She was not entirely sure what Beatrice was going to say. The Poisonous Girl had some sort of plan. She had not wanted to discuss it beforehand, and Mary had not pressed her. As president, she trusted the judgment of the other members.

  “Madam President,” said Beatrice, stepping forward. “My fellow members of the Athena Club do not wish to join the Société des Alchimistes. However, I will do so—on one condition.”

  “Indeed? And what condition is that?” asked Ayesha. For the first time, Mary saw her genuinely smile with amusement. Evidently, people did not often give Ayesha conditions.

  “Instead of deciding whether to allow experiments in biological transmutation yourself, on an ad hoc basis, you will form a committee to create a set of research protocols and review individual proposals. The committee would approve or disapprove proposals based not on the best interests of the Société des Alchimistes, but on ethical and moral grounds. I would be one member—you would choose the other two.”

  “And why should I do such a thing, Miss Rappaccini?” Ayesha was smiling broadly now. Mary hoped it was an appreciating Beatrice’s audacity smile rather than a considering how to destroy us smile.

  “I listened to your speech at the meeting, and what you said to us yesterday in Count Dracula’s parlor,” said Beatrice. “You are trying to prepare the Société for the coming era. You are making it more modern, more international. But, if you will forgive my saying so, your perspective on these issues is antiquated. You are not Pharaoh, to decide the life or death of others. It is not modern to rule by fiat. If you wish to create a society for the twentieth century, you must consider the welfare of the experimental subject and, if possible, obtain that subject’s consent. That is the way in which the scientific community is tending—why should alchemists be left behind?”

  Ayesha threw back her head so that her long black braids almost touched the floor and laughed until it echoed around the room. Professor Holly looked at her in astonishment.

  Mary quailed a little and glanced at Beatrice. She seemed undaunted, despite just having insulted a woman who could zap people to death in a way Mary did not understand. Were they about to be zapped, like those vampires?

  “So you think I’m antiquated,” Ayesha said finally, through intermittent laugher. “Perhaps. And perhaps, after millennia of being Princess and Priestess and Queen, I have gotten used to ruling and being obeyed. This position of Madam President—it is a new experience for me. Do you know why I joined the Alchemical Society, Miss Rappaccini? After all I had seen—after the destruction of the temple of Isis at Philae by the troops of Augustus, after the burning of the library of Alexandria—I grew tired of humanity. I traveled south, and in the mountains above the Zambesi I found a kingdom whose subjects were long dead, its monuments fallen into ruin. I claimed its throne—there was none to dispute my claim, and so for centuries I ruled as Queen of Kôr. There, based on the teachings of the temple and my alchemical research, I discovered how to prolong my life indefinitely. I thought I would live in those underground caverns until, from boredom or despair, I ended my own existence. Then the British started encroaching on my kingdom to create their protectorate. I am not an admirer of your British Empire, Miss Jekyll. It shares the rapacity of the Romans. Your colonial administrators cleared the forests for coffee plantations, blasted the mountains in search of metals and gems, poisoned the river with their manufacturing. They brought disease and privation to the tribes surrounding my kingdom. Could I fight the British Empire alone? I might have tried, but by a strange chance Leo and Holly found my hiding place and asked me to return with them. . . . Well, here I am. So you see, you are right, Miss Rappaccini. I am, in a sense, a survival from another world. Is there any place for me in this one? I thought there might be, in this society that continues, in its haphazard way, the research of the priestesses of Philae. Miss Jekyll, you have a question for me—I can see it in your expression. Ask, and I shall answer.”

  “How do you zap people?” asked Mary. “I mean electrocute, if that’s what you do. What sort of power allowed you to kill those vampires without touching them?”

  Ayesha smiled. “In the temple of Isis, I was taught to sense and manipulate the energic powers of the Earth. That is how the priestesses were able to heal both themselves and others—and also to kill, although the High Priestess forbade us to use our powers for such a purpose. That is why my sisters in Isis fell to the spears of the Romans. Only I was able to escape alive. As you can see, I no longer have such moral qualms.”

  “What are these energic powers?” asked Beatrice. “Do they have anything to do with mesmerism?” She thought of Alice, back home in London, learning how to control what Martin had called mesmeric waves. Was that at all related to Ayesha’s story?

  “Mesmerism! Sheer quackery,” said Holly. “Don’t let anyone fool you into thinking mesermism is a science, Miss Rappaccini. Except perhaps the science of separating money from the credulous!”

  “Do not dismiss what you do not understand,” said Ayesha. “The theory behind mesmerism is valid, despite the fraud perpetrated by its practitioners. To you, Miss Rappaccini, Miss Jekyll, this table, these shelves filled with books, the floor upon which we stand, all seem real and solid. But I assure you they are not. They are formed of energic waves, as are even you, Holly-the-skeptic. Mesmerism is the lowest level of the discipline I learned at Philae. Even an eight-year-old novice at the temple of Isis could create illusions—a priestess would have scorned to do so, concerning herself solely with the manipulation of the real. All matter is energy. This is an understanding man has lost, but may someday regain. Well, let us look forward to that future. In the meantime, Miss Rappaccini—Beatrice, if I may—I shall form this committee. The other members will be Holly, because every committee needs a skeptic, and—”

  Just then, the door opened and Frau Gottleib entered. “Ayesha? Leo says Mary and the others are here to look in the archives. Oh, forgive me! I did not know you were in the middle of a meeting.”

  “—yes, let us make it yourself, Holly, and Eva Gottleib, who shall be the chairwoman. We shall try your system for one year, and see whether it is indeed better than mine. Are you satisfied, Beatrice?”

  “Yes, Madam President,” said Beatrice. “That is exactly what I was hoping.”

  MARY: Was it really?

  BEATRICE: Well, I would have liked to be chairwoman myself, but that would perhaps have been too much to ask for.

  MARY: You should have asked. What could she have said, no? Or, you know, she could have reached out her hand and electrocuted us with her energic waves. Never mind, I’m glad you didn’t ask.

  As Mary and Beatrice were entering Ayesha’s office, Justine and Lucinda were following Leo Vincey down into the basement of the Academy of Sciences. When they reached the basement storage room where Professor Van Helsing was being held, they found Frau Gottleib sitting outside, with a pistol in her hand.

  “What are you doing here, Liebling?” she said to Lucinda. “You do not need to see this man.”

  “He is my father,” said Lucinda. “I wish to speak with him.”

  Frau Gottleib shook her head, but she took a set of keys out of her pocket
, unlocked the door, and let them in. The room was obviously used to store files—there were shelves filled with file boxes on three of the walls. Light came in through one small window on the far wall. Under that window was a fold-out cot with a pillow and blanket. Professor Van Helsing was seated on it, hands on his knees, looking perfectly composed. His white hair, high forehead, and clear, calm eyes made him look like a benevolent deity.

  Justine did not know what to expect—how would Lucinda respond to seeing her father again under these circumstances? When he saw her, Van Helsing rose and said, “Hallo, dochter.”

  “Je hebt mijn moeder vermoord!” said Lucinda. Suddenly, without warning, she crouched and sprang toward her father. With the instinct of an athlete, Leo caught the fabric of her skirt, which started to rip in his hand. Lucinda turned, snarled at him, and raked his face with her fingernails. For a moment, Justine was too startled to respond, but had the presence of mind to catch Lucinda around the waist and hold her fast.

  Van Helsing said something in his deep, soothing voice. Lucinda answered back, loudly, rapidly, but as it was all in Dutch, Justine had no idea what they were saying. When we asked Lucinda about it later, as she was preparing to depart for Styria, she said, “He told me that I should be proud of having contributed to science. He told me that we all make sacrifices for the benefit of mankind, for human progress—that he had made sacrifices as well. If Justine had not held me back, I would have ripped out his throat.”

  Somehow, with Leo’s help, Justine managed to drag Lucinda out of that room and into the hallway. She would have been strong enough to do it alone, but Lucinda kept flailing—there were arms and legs everywhere. She felt as though she had somehow caught the legendary Kraken.

  “What happened to your face?” said Frau Gottleib, staring at Leo. Justine turned to look—he had four red claw marks across that handsome cheek. “I shall get the carbolic, nein?”

  Leo collapsed into the chair she had been sitting on. “Just get that hellcat out of here. Lock the door and give me the pistol. I’ll stand guard. Find a cab so Miss Frankenstein can take her home, then bring me some bandages.”

  It was with relief that Justine put Lucinda into a cab and took her back to Count Dracula’s house. As they drove through the streets of Budapest, she could not help thinking about what Mary had told her the previous evening: that Adam was dead. She had tried not to feel anything about it, because when she allowed herself to, she felt not grief or loss, but only an overwhelming sense of relief. Adam would never trouble her again. Perhaps it was, after all, for the best—he had gone to meet his original Maker, and might now, at last, find the peace and forgiveness he had craved. Surely she was justified in feeling relief and even joy on his behalf? For the first time since she had learned that Adam was still alive, the world seemed brighter and clearer, the future filled with possibilities. Surely there was no shame in feeling that!

  When the cab reached Múzeum utca, Lucinda turned to her and said, “If I join your club, will I need to come live in London immediately? I think that first I should learn to manage my condition. In that room, I almost killed my father. If you had not held me back, I would have. . . . Laura has invited me to go with her and Carmilla to Styria. I think perhaps that would be the best place for me, for a while.”

  DIANA: Bloody right! Get it? Bloody?

  MARY: Lucinda was a lovely guest, the last time she and Laura visited. I’m just sorry Carmilla was too busy helping Mina with secret subcommittee business to join them. I think you’re jealous because when Lucinda’s here, she gets more attention than you.

  DIANA: Jealous of a vampire? Not bloody likely!

  While Frau Gottleib was leading Mary and Beatrice down to the basement of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, where the files of the Alchemical Society were located, Catherine was staring down at Edward Prendick’s gravestone. It said Edward Prendick, S.A., with the dates of his birth and death underneath, then Requiescat in Pacem. She did not believe in a life ever after, but she hoped he was resting in peace.

  Laura took her hand. Thank goodness Laura had offered to come with her! At least there had been two mourners at Prendick’s graveside. It was a beautiful resting place—high on a hill outside the city, with tall trees shadowing the gravestones and wildflowers growing between them. “When I’m in Budapest,” said Laura, “I’ll come here and put flowers on his grave for you.”

  “Thank you,” said Catherine. She walked off a little way and looked toward the city, spread out in the distance. At her feet, poppies waved in the wind like small red flags. “You know, I still don’t know whether I loved him or hated him. Loved him, certainly, at first. And then hated him. And now? I don’t know. . . . It’s complicated.”

  “Relationships are always complicated,” said Laura. “Look at Mina and Vlad. They are very different sorts of people. Will their relationship last? I hope so, but one can never be sure.”

  Catherine picked a blade of grass and started chewing on it. “You and Carmilla seem like a perfect couple. You’re different, but you complement each other.”

  “We do,” said Laura. “And yet, we met under the most inauspicious circumstances! Carmilla had fallen in love with an Austrian woman—young, beautiful, elegant. She wanted to remain so forever, and asked Carmilla to turn her into a vampire. Carmilla warned her of the consequences, but she insisted. Carmilla gave in—and her beloved went mad. What is worse, she went on a rampage, killing a series of prostitutes in Vienna. When we met, the woman’s guardians were hunting Carmilla. They knew what she was, and almost killed her—the true death. I gave her shelter and time to heal from her injuries. The physical injuries healed. The emotional ones? I’m not sure they ever will. It took a long time for her to trust me.”

  “But she did come to trust you, finally,” said Catherine. Was she like Carmilla? She certainly had her scars, both internal and external. It was difficult for her to trust anyone.

  Laura smiled. “She did. And I have no desire for eternal life. The present is enough for me, thank you very much. Come on, let’s get back to the city. We’ve focused on death enough for one day. There’s a life waiting for us. Also, lunch.”

  “When we get back,” said Catherine, after climbing into the Count’s carriage, which had been waiting for them below the graveyard, “I’m going to climb up to the roof, to sit by myself for a while. I need some puma time.”

  But when she reached the house on Múzeum utca, there was a surprise waiting for her.

  “I’m going to check on Lucinda,” said Laura, as she stood in the front hall, taking off her hat and gloves. “If you ask the Count, he’ll tell you how to get up to the roof—I mean, other than by climbing! He should be in his study—it’s two doors away from Mina’s.”

  As Catherine reached the second floor, wondering if Count Dracula’s study was two doors before or two doors after Mina’s, Justine met her in the hallway and said, “Kati just told us you had arrived—at least, she said something about Katerina and Laura, so I assumed you were back from the funeral. Look who’s arrived in Budapest!” Out of the music room behind her stepped Clarence and Madam Zora. Behind them came Sasha, stepping out tentatively as though unsure if he would be welcome.

  “Hello, Whiskers!” said the Zulu Prince.

  “Clarence!” said Catherine, giving him a puma-strength hug. Then she turned to the snake charmer. “Zora, I’m sorry for everything. You don’t have to forgive me. I just want you to know that I’m perfectly aware of what an idiot I’ve been.”

  “Are you really a puma?” asked Zora, with her hands on her hips, looking at Catherine skeptically.

  Catherine pulled back her top lip to show her fangs, then unbuttoned the top buttons of her shirt. She held the collar open to reveal the scars from her transformation.

  “Well, you’re certainly something,” said Zora, looking at the pale lines that shone against Catherine’s darker skin. “I’m not saying I forgive you, but—” She held out her hand. “I’m Surita. That’s my
real name, when I’m not in the circus.”

  “Thank you,” said Catherine, and shook her hand. In the circus, any revelation, any sharing of a confidence, was a gift.

  “Well, Cat Girl,” said Sasha in his heavy accent, hanging back. He still smelled like that damn cigarette smoke.

  Catherine walked over to him and punched him hard on the arm. “What were you thinking? What kind of friend sells me out like that?” She punched him again to make her point.

  Sasha retreated into the music room, rubbing his arm. “Let me explain. . . .”

  Clarence, still standing in the hallway, told Justine, “We arrived just this morning. You know, Lorenzo could use a Giantess, if you want your old job back. And Atlas would be thrilled to see you, but he’s so shy that he wouldn’t come with us this morning, in case he might not be welcome.”

  “How silly of him,” said Justine. “I would be happy to see him, Clarence. Truly I would.”

  By the time Mary and Beatrice returned from the Academy of Sciences, the circus performers were all laughing and talking between mouthfuls of the apple strudel and a horn-shaped pastry called kifli, filled with poppy seeds and raisins, that Kati had brought in with coffee. Clarence and Catherine were telling stories about the early days of Lorenzo’s Circus of Marvels and Delights, Justine was listening thoughtfully as usual, and Zora was asking questions about what it had been like when the circus was at its height and toured all over the countryside. Diana, who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere shortly after the food, was sitting on the floor, asking Sasha what it was like to be half dog. Sasha was patiently explaining to her that he was, in fact, fully human—just a little hairier than most.

  When Beatrice entered, Clarence rose and moved toward her. Gracefully, she reached out her gloved hand. Looking disappointed, he shook it, letting it go reluctantly. Catherine introduced Mary, who had never met the performers of Lorenzo’s circus.