Such Wicked Intent

by Kenneth Oppel

  “Why?”

  “He was concerned they be preserved properly.”

  “The body,” said Elizabeth, “was it truly of giant proportions?”

  “Indeed it was, miss.”

  “You saw its teeth?”

  “They were unusually sharp.” He nodded at the tarpaulin. “I’m just here to gather up the last bits of bone.”

  “Thank you,” said Elizabeth, walking out of the chamber. Henry and I followed.

  As we made our way back through the vaulted galleries, I said, “You see, I didn’t imagine any of this.”

  Elizabeth ignored me.

  “Whatever that thing was, or is, it wants a body born, and not for Konrad—for itself. You can’t blame me for what happened at the lake.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” she said. “Worry about your brother when you tell him tonight.”

  * * *

  When he sees the three of us, Konrad beams. He’s in the library with Analiese, who is carefully reading aloud to him when we enter. Arranged on the tables is an arsenal of weapons from the armory, as if he’s expecting to be attacked at any moment.

  “Are we ready?” he asks, leaping up. “This is the night, is it not?”

  “Konrad—,” I begin.

  His face falls. “What’s happened?”

  My voice is a defeated croak. “Your body… There’s been an accident.”

  Analiese gasps. Konrad sinks down in his chair. “What kind of accident?”

  I swallow, struggling to govern myself. “It drowned.”

  “How?”

  Before I can assemble the words, Elizabeth says, “Victor fought with him and they fell into the water, and he didn’t know how to swim.”

  Konrad looks at me, his eyes dark with reproach.

  “Listen to me,” I say. “You must believe me. The body was corrupted. It was violent. It tried to rape Elizabeth!”

  “No!” she objects. “That wasn’t the case. It kissed me and became enflamed, as any young man might’ve done. It had no conscience yet to—”

  “The body was not yours, Konrad!” I shout over her. “It was meant for another.”

  “What do you mean?” Konrad demands, standing now, pacing like a tiger caged.

  “That creature in the pit, your body was meant for it!”

  “How can this be?” exclaims Analiese.

  I see how, even now, Elizabeth looks at her, with suspicion and barely veiled hostility.

  “The spirit that animated your body comes from that creature!” I tell Konrad. “And all of these,” I add, looking nervously at the black butterflies that circle overhead. “Don’t let them land! They’ve been feeding on us whenever we come here, especially me, taking our life energy back to the creature and gradually waking it. When I last saw it, it had changed yet again. It was like some vast embryo.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this last night?” Konrad demands.

  “My time was up. I… I had to leave,” I tell him, unable to meet his gaze.

  Konrad’s voice is irate. “You take time to do your reading and collect your specimens—but not enough to warn me about this thing!”

  “I still wasn’t sure what it was,” I tell him. “Or how dangerous it might be. It wasn’t until this morning, when the professor dug up the remains in the real world. It’s some kind of monstrosity, maybe not even human. Some of its features were exactly the same as the body we’ve been growing for you!”

  “One!” protests Elizabeth. “A single sharp tooth! That’s Victor’s lonely bit of evidence.”

  “No. There were other moments when you—the body—became strange and frightening. It bit. It growled. Its face changed into something brutal.”

  “Victor has become addicted to the spirit butterflies,” says Elizabeth, “and they’ve clouded his judgment. He sees all manner of things.”

  Konrad looks at me long and hard, then turns in Henry’s direction.

  “Henry, you’ve always had a level head. Tell me what you know.”

  “The body we grew for you did have a strange tooth, it’s true.” He sighs and looks ruefully at Elizabeth. “And today I did see those features Victor mentioned. They were like a shadow crossing its face.”

  I feel a rush of gratitude for Henry. “I swear to you, Konrad, there is some infernal design at work. The professor thinks this pit creature may have been considered some kind of god, and maybe he’s right. How else to explain the fact that it created these butterflies from its own dead body?”

  Analiese is shaking her head, frightened. “But the butterflies have always been here. And I’ve never sensed any evil purpose in them.”

  “Until they have living souls to feed upon,” I reply. “Look how the little parasites hover, wanting to steal more from us.”

  Overhead they flutter closer, darting toward Henry, Elizabeth, and me, wanting to touch us. I shoo them away viciously.

  “They’re like leeches!” I shout. “They’ll drain us and use our power to fully wake that creature in the pit!”

  “But you put such faith in these creatures!” Konrad says. “You said they gave you immense powers.”

  “They did,” I say, swatting one that alighted on Henry’s back without his realizing. “But even as they gave, they took away. Elizabeth! Don’t let it land on you!”

  I am suddenly aware that everyone is looking at me as though I’m a lunatic—and no doubt I look it, my eyes darting about, lunging to and fro to swat butterflies.

  “Victor,” says Elizabeth sadly, “you’re deluded. There was nothing the matter with the body we grew. And you let it die!”

  “It tried to drown me!”

  “He did his best to save it,” says Henry.

  “Make me another!”

  The shout comes from Konrad, and when I turn, I know that I have never seen his face so angry. He stalks toward me, fists clenched.

  “Make me another body!” he shouts.

  “It can’t be done! It would be another monstrosity!”

  “You promised me, Victor!”

  His words impale me, and I have no reply.

  “It’s just like last time,” he rails. “You make me these promises. The Elixir of Life! How it will heal me! How it will keep me from any illness. Then you tell me you can raise me from the dead! Your promises are meaningless, Victor! Meaningless!”

  “Konrad, I’ve tried my—”

  “No. You tried to make yourself grand and powerful, as usual, and you have ruined everything!”

  I don’t realize how close he’s come toward me—until he strikes me. His fist actually touches my body. And though it feels like the graze of a feather, I gasp in shock. How is it he’s able to come so close?

  “I want my life back!” Konrad shouts as he batters at me, his blows like little breezes. I wish they hurt more, to match my misery.

  “I’d do anything for you,” I say.

  “Liar! I half think you drowned me on purpose, so you could woo Elizabeth and take her for yourself.”

  “That’s not so!” I protest weakly. But I wonder if all his angry words have the accuracy of arrows.

  “You mean to whine at her and worry her like a dog until she takes you!” Konrad says with a cruelty I’ve never known from him.

  Analiese puts a restraining hand on him, draws him back. “Konrad, his remorse is obvious. Please stop.”

  “Don’t touch him!” Elizabeth yells at her. “We don’t even know who or what you are!”

  A sense of madness throbs through the room, and the walls are beginning to pulse with our frenzied emotions.

  Konrad shrugs free of Analiese and strikes at me again. “I—want—more—life! You’ve paraded it in front of me, and now I want it! Get me another body!”

  Henry steps in front of me, and Konrad recoils, driven back by my friend’s light and heat. Why has mine not done the same?

  My brother sinks suddenly into a chair, covering his face. “Victor,” he says, “I’m—”

  “Do y
ou all see?” I shout. “My light has faded. These spirits have stolen it from me and given it to that thing in the pit. Can’t you all see that? How else could Konrad have touched me?”

  There’s an uncomfortable silence, and for a moment I hope I’ve finally convinced them.

  But Elizabeth just shakes her head stubbornly. “If you’re weakened,” she says, “it’s because you’ve abused the spirits and dallied too long in this world.”

  “But your light and heat are dimmer too,” says Konrad, looking at her carefully. “Not so much as Victor’s…”

  Henry and I both regard her, surprised, for we’ve never been able to see one another’s auras.

  “Have you been coming in, without me?” I ask her.

  She nods quickly, and I see Konrad’s guilty look.

  Konrad stands up and starts seizing weapons from the table.

  “What’re you doing?” Henry asks.

  “What I should’ve done much earlier,” he says savagely. “I’m going to destroy that thing!”

  “Konrad, don’t!” cries Elizabeth. “It’s too dangerous!”

  “He’s right,” I say, snatching up a crossbow and a sword. “It must be done.”

  “Then I’ll fight with you,” says Henry.

  But at that moment the spirit clock in my pocket begins to vibrate and shake with such frightening intensity that I fear the thing will burst apart. “It can’t be,” I mutter, pulling it out. “How can our time be up?”

  “Can you slow it?” Konrad asks desperately.

  “No… it’s too late. I can’t turn back time.”

  He looks at me, desolate, and then his face hardens. “I’ll do it alone.”

  “No,” I tell him. “You might need help. The help of the living.”

  “I’m sick of listening to it!” he shouts. “Waiting for it to come!”

  “It won’t come,” I tell him. “It needs more life to wake. Without us here it can’t wake fully.”

  He shakes his head, refusing to meet my gaze. “How can you know that?”

  “I won’t leave you here,” I say. “I’ll come back. I’ll solve this somehow.”

  He is silent.

  “I’ll find a way,” I promise him. “But don’t attack this thing on your own.”

  He nods. I don’t want to leave him, not like this, with all hope drained from his face. I want to stay, to make amends, but the urgency to return to my real body makes a coward of me, and I run along with Henry and Elizabeth, her face streaked with tears, back toward my bedroom—and life—while Konrad remains behind once more, in the land of the dead.

  CHAPTER 18

  POSSESSED

  WHEN WE CAME BACK TO OURSELVES, WE LOOKED everywhere but at one another. From the corner of my eye I sensed Elizabeth’s anger just by the set of her mouth.

  “Konrad’s in no danger right now,” I said, as much to comfort myself as the others. “The pit demon can’t be born without our energy.” I drew a weary breath. “I’ll think of something.”

  “Perhaps your spirit friends can help you,” Elizabeth said coldly.

  “There are none on me.” Leaving the spirit world, I was most careful to make sure of that.

  Elizabeth looked at me. “You’re sure?”

  “Will you check me?” I asked Henry.

  Elizabeth turned to the wall, and I stripped and let Henry examine my body.

  “He’s clear.”

  “Even so,” said Elizabeth, “he has some in a flask in his drawer.”

  “Just one,” I said. “And here, if you don’t trust me.” I took the key from its new hiding place and handed it to her. “You hold on to this.”

  “Thank you, Victor,” she said, and took it.

  After checking to be sure the hallway was clear of servants, she left for her own bedchamber. Henry and I were alone.

  “Thank you,” I said, “for saying you saw how its face changed.”

  Henry exhaled nervously, and I caught a welcome glimpse of my old friend. “I tell you honestly, I don’t know what to think.”

  “Nor I,” I murmured.

  “You haven’t made it easy for us, Victor,” he said. “Your behavior—”

  I wanted to save him the chore of chastising me, and save myself the pain of hearing it. “I know. My behavior’s been odd.”

  “I think sometimes you’re half-mad.”

  “Only half ?”

  He chuckled weakly, and it seemed impossible to imagine a time when one could live with a full and careless heart.

  “Let’s sleep,” I said. “Things always seem clearer and more possible in the morning’s light.”

  He stood and put a hand on my shoulder. I reached up and placed my good hand gratefully atop his.

  “Good night, Henry.”

  “Good night, Victor.”

  * * *

  I slept, but the pain in my hand inhabited my dreams, and when it finally woke me, I sat up, sweating, and lit a candle. I looked at the laudanum on my bedside table and wanted oblivion, if only for a few short hours. I opened the bottle and was about to drop some onto my tongue when I noticed that the locked drawer of my desk was open.

  I leapt off the bed and rushed over.

  The spirit clock and green flask of elixir were still there.

  But the vial that held my one remaining spirit butterfly was gone.

  I dressed quickly, ran to Henry’s bedchamber, and roughly shook him awake. He opened his eyes and sat up, chest swelling with surprise.

  “Dress quickly,” I said.

  He looked at my strained candlelit face. “What’s happened? What time is it?”

  “We’re friends, are we not?” I asked.

  With only a slight hesitation he nodded.

  “I know lately we’ve butted heads, but you’ve been my dearest friend from childhood, and I need you to trust me now.”

  “Victor, what’s going on?” he demanded.

  “Elizabeth’s stolen the flask with the butterfly spirit.”

  “How do you know she hasn’t just taken it away to stop you from using it?”

  “She took the key to the cottage and Konrad’s brush from my bureau. There are probably more than a few hairs left in it.”

  My friend licked his lips. “Surely she wouldn’t attempt such a thing.”

  “She still doesn’t believe the first body was corrupted. We have to stop her.”

  “I can’t believe it,” said Henry.

  “If I’m right, we’ll find her bedchamber empty and she’ll already be at the cottage… at work.”

  He swung himself out of bed, hurriedly pulled on trousers and shirt. We padded down the hallway to Elizabeth’s room. I opened the door, and we slipped inside. I parted the curtains at the foot of her bed and in the shadows saw her there, asleep.

  I glanced sheepishly at Henry, but he grabbed my arm tightly.

  “What?” I said.

  He rushed to the side of her bed and shook her so violently that she came apart in an explosion of pillows and rolled linens.

  Together we bolted downstairs, slipped on boots and cloaks, and launched ourselves headlong into the night.

  * * *

  Pain seared my missing fingers, and my limbs shook with fatigue. I felt like an invalid not properly recovered from a fierce ague. My body craved the rush of a spirit butterfly against my flesh, even though I knew it was precisely this that had enfeebled me. I slogged on through the pastures, Henry at my side.

  The lock of the cottage was unclasped. I shuttered my lantern and cracked open the door to peer inside. A single lamp flickered on the crude table, mounded with damp mud. We were in time! She hadn’t created it yet. Behind the table Elizabeth sat on a stool, her back to us. She was very still, her head tilted down. She wore only her nightdress.

  I whispered to Henry, “I think she’s sleepwalking. We must be calm but firm with her.”

  “And do what?”

  “You get hold of the flask that contains the butterfly spirit, and I’l
l guide her back home.”

  We opened the door and walked inside. Elizabeth did not even turn her head.

  “What are you doing, Elizabeth?” I asked pleasantly, steeping slowly closer.

  As I passed the table, I noticed Konrad’s hairbrush and a toppled flask, unsealed.

  Empty.

  “Look at him, Victor,” she said dreamily. “Just look at him.”

  Still she kept her back to us, but now I could tell she cradled something in her arms.

  “I made him anew,” she murmured.

  “Ah,” I said, and took another cautious step closer.

  She turned to face us then. In her arms she held a mud baby, but this one was much, much larger than the one we’d originally created. I didn’t know if she’d simply fashioned a bigger body this time, or if the particular butterfly spirit she’d used was more vital than the first. The baby’s body was still crude, its muddy limbs misshapen and scored with hasty finger strokes, but it was obviously, terrifyingly alive. Its crude legs and arms twitched, and its head shifted against Elizabeth’s nightdress.

  Her gaze seemed directed at someone behind Henry and me, and I fought the urge to turn. It had always been her way, when sleepwalking, to look beyond what was right before her eyes.

  “It was very clever of you,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. “You must’ve found some more hairs on Konrad’s brush.”

  She smiled secretively. “A few,” she said. “But I also had another bit.”

  “What bit was that?” I asked, my step faltering.

  “A bit of his bone. From the pit. I used that, too.”

  I glanced anxiously at Henry, and saw my own horror reflected in his pale face. I remembered Elizabeth in the burial chamber, how she’d bent to pick up a tiny shard of bone. I’d never noticed her put it down.

  “He’s waited such a long time,” Elizabeth said now.

  “Has he?” I asked politely, taking another step, keeping an eye on the stirring creature in her arms. “How long has he waited?”

  Barely audibly, she said, “Hundreds of thousands of years. I’m to be his mate.”

  My flesh crawled, and at that moment I saw a furtive insectlike shadow dart from the neckline of her nightdress and take refuge behind her ear. Henry’s small gasp told me he’d seen it too.