Monster

by Dave Zeltserman

  I tried not to answer him but I could not help myself, his words enraging me.

  “My father was a good and gentle man,” I said. “He spent his life painting porcelain figurines, which only served to bring delight into people’s lives. I assure you my father never dreamed of torturing and murdering innocent children for any purpose.”

  Frankenstein ignored the anger in my voice, and his own temperament remained calm, maybe even melancholy.

  “Friedrich, you need to let go of these false sentiments that you insist on clinging to. What you were before was only a man. That person died, but what you are now, what I in fact gave birth to you as, is something far greater. You will understand this someday, as you will the purpose for the drama that we will be performing. It is far more than what you believe it is. Our drama seeks a higher truth, and will enlighten mankind in a way that no drama before has ever hoped to do. Give it time, Friedrich. You will see this, I am sure of it, and when you do you will have fully evolved into the superior being that I know is your destiny. I am sure that you will also then feel the same bond between us that I feel.”

  “If this bond between us truly exists, then free me from your black spell,” I said. “Let me feel this bond without it being choked by your magic.”

  “There is no way to free you from my spell,” he said. In the darkness, I saw the calmness upon his face as he stared out toward the river. “I wish I could free you from it, Friedrich. Not now, of course. Not while you are making this request sarcastically and wish only to rip my limbs from my body. But later. Unfortunately, I will never be able to do so.”

  I again did not wish to speak further with him, but I could not restrain myself.

  “If you believe that these sentiments of mine are merely illusory,” I said. “And that I am destined to be as blackhearted and devoid of conscience as you and the rest of your company, then why are you willing to bring Johanna back to me?”

  My enemy paused before answering me. “To help you along the path that you need to take,” he said. “Of course, I have other reasons. This is an experiment that I have longed planned to attempt, and it would be fascinating to see whether this woman’s memories have been retained, as yours were, and how she reacts to you in your new form. But of utmost importance was to have you choose to have a young girl murdered to satisfy your own needs. With this step taken there will be no turning back and there will be little doubt that you will evolve as I have hoped.”

  “You would have murdered her anyway,” I argued. “And in a far more sordid and horrible manner!”

  Frankenstein shrugged halfheartedly. “Perhaps, but perhaps not. You cannot know for certain what would have happened. What if we decided not to perform our drama, and instead free the prisoners? Or what if the French army caught wind of what we were doing and sent troops to rescue them? No my friend, no matter how you rationalize this, you will be culpable in this girl’s murder.”

  I brooded over this, for he was not telling me anything that I had not already been torturing myself over. Of course, he was lying about the chances that they might cancel their planned drama. They were hell-bent on seeing their plans carried out. The girl that I chose would be murdered in any case. But Frankenstein was right. I would now be responsible for her death.

  A thought entered my mind, and I began to tremble. “Once you have brought my Johanna back to me, you cannot harm her!”

  He nodded. “You have my word on that, Friedrich, although I believe that you will soon have little use for her.”

  “And you cannot bring her back to your castle! That madman there would incorporate her into his damnable play if you did!”

  “Do not worry, Friedrich. I will not renege on my promise to you. She will be kept safe, and I will keep her away from the castle, at least during our performance, for you are correct of course. I am sure the Marquis already has plans to include her in the proceedings. But you are wrong about him being a madman. He is a visionary, as I have full confidence that you will eventually understand. Would it surprise you to know that the Marquis has acted as a judge in Paris, and that he has saved dozens from the guillotine? And that he has been persecuted for this?”

  I bit my tongue to keep from remarking how the most cruel will at times try to wear the disguise of the heroic and the martyr to keep their true nature hidden. I did however ask him what it was that he had whispered to the Marquis after the man’s petulant outburst at dinner the other night.

  Frankenstein sighed heavily before telling me, “I reminded him that our guests not only shared our philosophy but were funding our enterprise, and that he should not insult them. I also made sure that he understood the deep affection I feel for you.”

  “Why is it that your spell appears to hold more power over me each day?” I asked. “There were times when I traveled through Saxony and Bavaria and felt only a dull pull on me, and was sure that I had free will over my actions.”

  “Certainly not when you were sent into those cities and villages,” he said. “But you are right. The spell is like a parasite that grows inside of you. I wish that were not the case, but it is.” He paused before adding, “I would also like to believe that your obedience is partially due to your deeper affections toward me, even if you are refusing to acknowledge it.”

  With that my enemy bid me good night. I stood where I was for several hours until the blackness of the night began to dissolve into a hazy grayness, and only then returned to my cabin.

  CHAPTER 22

  We left for London the same day that we arrived in Rotterdam. Frankenstein urged me to crouch as low as I could when we boarded the ship in an attempt to limit the attention that I would draw. He had every right to be worried about this, for I could not help but draw attention to myself—not only because of my massive size, but due to my manner of dress and the unseasonably hot summer weather. Anyone wearing the cape that I wore, especially with the hood raised to hide my face, would arouse curiosity. I could have suggested that I take a small boat myself to London, or even use that boat to later board the ship under the cover of darkness, but I enjoyed watching how Frankenstein’s brow became ruined by consternation, as well as the way he squirmed whenever a crew member or fellow passenger stared in my direction and whispered into a companion’s ear. In the end, no one approached us and we made it to our private cabin without incident. Frankenstein was perspiring badly by this point, and seemed to be reacting nervously toward every footstep outside our cabin door.

  “I should have arranged other means for you to reach London,” he said, his anxiety tightening his voice.

  “Are you afraid that the crew might come to us and demand that I remove my cape and reveal myself to them?” I asked, taunting him.

  He nodded, too consumed with worry to note the mocking tone of my voice.

  “That would be a shame,” I said. “For I might be compelled then to tell them of the young prisoners that you are holding within your castle’s dungeon in Chamounix. As well as the plans that you have for them.”

  His eyes flashed as my words brought him temporarily out of his stupor. “And lose your dear beloved Johanna Klemmen forever?” he asked, his voice cutting as a scalpel. “I don’t think so. But even if you were to try something like that, your voice would fail you, and would find yourself quite mute. But Friedrich, it is good to see this cruel streak in you, for it shows that you are making progress.”

  With that, he sat by a small table and poured himself a glass of wine, his hand shaking as he brought it to his lips. When footsteps sounded outside of our door he nearly spilled the wine down his jacket, but after a pause the footsteps moved past us.

  “Once we arrive in London there will be nothing to worry about,” he said.

  “I am not worried,” I said, a harsh grin wrinkling my face.

  Annoyance pinched his mouth, but otherwise he ignored me and poured himself a second glass of wine. I had been crouching inside the cabin, for if I stood straight my head would have gone through the ceiling.
I became weary of standing like that, and took a bottle myself, pulled out the cork with my fingers, and sat on the floor and drank the bottle as a baby would milk. It was more than an hour later, and after several additional glasses of wine, that Frankenstein recovered from his panic, and his familiar haughtiness showed once more in his eyes and on his lips.

  “We fooled them, Friedrich,” he said. “They were only within several feet of you when you passed them, and not one of them suspected what you are. The idiots!”

  “Or maybe they did,” I said. “Maybe they have guards posted by our door and are waiting until we arrive in London before arresting us.”

  This goading affected Frankenstein as I had hoped. Alarm crept into his eyes, and he had difficulty relaxing over the next eight hours of our voyage as he attempted to forget my words. I got little satisfaction from this, and soon I grabbed another bottle of wine, ignoring him. When the ship docked, Frankenstein had us stay holed up within our cabin for another hour so that the night would grow darker before we left. Even then, he opened the cabin door only a crack so that he could peer out and be sure that armed guards weren’t waiting for us.

  “They could have the guards waiting at the disembarkation point of the ship,” I said. “That is what I would do if I were them.”

  In his nervous state he took this latest taunt of mine to heart. “Very true, Friedrich, very true,” he murmured, both too drunk and anxious to think properly. He chewed on his bottom lip before his bloodshot eyes glanced up to meet mine. “Here is what you will do,” he said. “I want you to climb from the deck down the side of the ship, and from there jump onto the pier. You can do that, can’t you? And make sure nobody sees or hears you. Wait in the shadows for me. Once I have left the ship I will find you. Or you should signal me if you spot me first.”

  I nodded my assent and cursed myself. If I had kept my mouth shut, I would have been able to walk past the crew members with Frankenstein at my side, and maybe he would have then died from fright and I would be free from his damned spell.

  Frankenstein left the cabin before me, then I skulked unobserved to the midpoint of the ship, and from there I climbed down a ladder and easily jumped so that I landed like a cat on the pier. There I waited until I spotted Frankenstein and I signaled for him as he had commanded me. His mood had brightened considerably.

  “We did it, my friend,” he exclaimed heartily. He reached up and clapped me collegially on my back as if we were best of friends. I gritted my teeth at this, but held my tongue.

  “We arrived here without arousing undue suspicion. From this point on there will be nothing to worry about.”

  Sadly, I believed he was right. He arranged for a hackney carriage, and under the cover of night, I slipped inside of it without the driver being able to see much of my features. The seat groaned under my weight and the floorboards sagged. Frankenstein muttered that he was going to have to arrange for coaches from now on, but as the lone horse strained under the driver’s whip, the carriage got under way.

  CHAPTER 23

  Frankenstein had rented the first floor of a rooming house near the Charing Cross section of London. We arrived in the pitch-black of night, with the carriage driver having to hold a lantern in order to see ten feet in front of his face. The street that the rooming house sat on seemed aptly named given its new tenant: Craven Street. After the carriage brought us to the address, Frankenstein pointed out the private entrance that the flat had, and told me that was why he had rented it. I stood in the darkness while the carriage driver struggled to carry in Frankenstein’s trunk, and waited until he drove away before I entered the apartment. These ceilings were also less than eight feet high, and I had to stoop. Frankenstein didn’t notice or care, and appeared to be in high spirits.

  “This will be an exciting few days,” he told me. “I suspect you have never seen anything like London before. While I will need you to stay indoors during the day, feel free to roam at night and see what you can of the city.”

  I had had more than enough of Frankenstein’s company during the voyage, and I took him up on his offer. Before he could say another word I was out of the flat and moving fast to get away. A crescent moon showed in the night sky and provided little light, and the air was hazier than I was used to, but with my nocturnal vision I could still see well enough in what was close to blackness. Frankenstein was right. This was unlike any city I had yet seen. The buildings appeared haphazardly slapped together as if no planning was done, and the area more cramped than even in Ingolstadt. It gave me the impression of walking through a honeycomb. But it was the dirt and filth of the place that I noticed most. Garbage and rotted food had been tossed into the streets and it filled them with an inescapable stench. As I walked I noticed more rats scurrying about than I had ever seen in my life.

  I had been heading toward Charing Cross, and I stopped at what I saw. In the open was a public pillory with a man bent over, his head and arms locked within the wooden structure. I heard him moaning miserably, and I walked over to him. It was too dark for him to see me, but I could see the anguish on his face, as well as the stains from the rotted fruits and vegetables that had been thrown at him.

  “Why are you locked up like this?” I asked.

  My voice surprised him, but he answered me. “They accuse me of stealing a loaf of bread and two pounds of mutton,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

  “Are these accusations true?”

  He squeezed his eyes closed and nodded as much as the pillory would allow. “Yes, the food was for my brother’s widow. She has children and they are hungry. And, yes, I did steal what they claim.”

  I considered this for only a moment, and then I broke the pillory open to free him. Before he had a chance to thank me I was walking away.

  I kept walking north, using the few stars I could make out in the sky to guide me. Mostly I made my way through narrow alleyways and streets, although at times I would come across small parks and gardens and buildings of remarkable grandeur. I was no more than a few miles from where I had freed that man from the pillory when I spotted five men standing together in the darkness. Somehow they sensed me and they moved quickly so that they surrounded me. They were big men, although nowhere my size. But each of them was over six feet tall and thick shouldered, and they held long knives. They reminded me of the wolves that had first attacked me when I traveled to Leipzig.

  One of them addressed me. “Aye, mate. If you are going to pass, you got to pay our toll.”

  “What is your toll?”

  He laughed at that. “Listen to his accent. A foreigner.” This was said to his companions. Then to me, he said, “Your pig snout. That is what we collect, and that’s why we are members of the Pig Snout Club. So remember that for when you tell stories of how you lost your pig snout!”

  While I had studied English, I hadn’t spoken or heard it much in my life, and I wasn’t sure if I had heard right. “I do not have a pig with me,” I said. “So I am afraid you will have to collect your snout from someone else.”

  “That’s not how it works, friend. We’ll collect the snout from you. From your own face, mind you. So stand still and be prepared to pay your toll. Or put up a fight if you wish.”

  They moved toward me, and it was only when they were a few feet from me and realized my size that they stopped. Once more they reminded me of those wolves, except with the men I felt no remorse over what I was going to do. They only hesitated briefly. I suppose they decided that even with my greater size, they were armed and there were five of them. And in the darkness they couldn’t see me clearly enough to realize what they were going up against.

  When the first of them stepped forward to stick me with his knife, I grabbed him by the arm and broke it as if it were a dried stick. Before he could utter a sound I lifted him over my head the way you would lift a sack of flour. He started shrieking then, but it did not last long as I threw him at two of his advancing companions. These two also cried out as they fell to the ground with the
ir friend sprawled out on top of them, either dead or unconscious. The two remaining proved less courageous than the wolves had, and they both took several steps backward.

  “Aye, Charlie,” one of them cried out. “Was that you who screamed? What happened? Henry?”

  “I think he’s murdered Charlie,” one of them on the ground cried. “And he’s hurt us terribly.”

  The two standing snout collectors turned and ran. I could have given chase and caught them, but instead I approached their three helpless companions who were left on the ground and kneeled beside them. I took a knife from one of them.

  “Maybe I should start my own collection,” I said, and I placed the blade under his nose. All I needed to do was push my thumb against the back of the blade, and his nose would come clean off.

  “Please, Cap’n, don’t do that,” he pleaded. “I got a mum and two sisters. Don’t do that to me. We were just having our fun, that’s all.”

  “How many noses have you collected so far? And do not lie. I know when I’m being lied to!”

  He hesitated before telling me that so far he had only collected a mere four noses, and that two of them were only little beaks that together barely amounted to a full nose. He started blubbering then, and in his tears added, “But it was done for sport, Cap’n. We weren’t out to cause any real mischief.”

  “Just a group of high-spirited gentlemen,” I said.

  “That’s all we are, Cap’n.” Then he was sobbing too hard for further words.

  The thought of someone maiming innocent passersby for sport sickened me. He deserved to be marked for his villainy, and he certainly did not deserve the mercy that I showed him, for I broke the knife blade in my hand, and left him and his two companions with their noses still attached to their faces.

  They were not the only villains that I encountered in the darkness of London. That same night I had others try to attack me, some for sport who also gave themselves colorful names, others expecting to rob me. The same happened every night that I walked the dark London streets, even when I tried to walk along the banks of the Thames to avoid them. These villains that came from the dark to prey on the innocent seemed as numerous as the rats that I would see scurrying about, although none of them that approached me fared any better than the snout collectors.