“Of course, of course.” William waved her gratefulness off with a flick of wrist. “You’re more than welcome to get back to your normal activities, I’ll be just fine alone with my patient. No need to waste anymore of your time.” A charming smile to finish and Madame floated out of the room leaving William alone with the furious assassin.
“You’d think someone who desperately wants me to do them a favor would be a little nicer. Or at the very least treat me with a little respect.” Miriel pulled herself back out of the chair so she could stare down William at eye level.
“You haven’t earned my respect. This is my world and these are my rules. You need to play by them if you expect to survive here. I can only do so much. If you keep acting out like that your reputation will be ruined before you walk out that door for the first time. And then you’re useless to me.”
“I have every intention of playing by the rules but you know exactly what kind of reputation I have. And I’ve earned the respect of stronger men than you.” Miriel stayed where she was but her voice was menacing.
William actually flinched and Miriel turned to the window so he couldn’t see her lip curl. “How is that game of yours going?” The question was more of a peace offering.
“Come with me tonight and find out.”
“No.” The quick response surprised Miriel more than it surprised William. “I can’t help you yet. I’m too out of place here. I can’t move without being awkward and obvious. Before I can help you, you need to help me. I have to be just like all the other women here. Enough they won’t watch me just to catch my latest faux pas but not so brilliant that they become jealous and wait for me to do something wrong. You have to teach me everything I need before Perkins throws me out. Then I’m out from under her meddling, critical nose and free to help you without risking myself being tossed back to the other side of the wall.”
“Fair enough.” William agreed more quickly than Miriel had anticipated. “But did you still want me to look at that side?” He grinned as Miriel realized the blood had finally made its way to the outside through each individual layer of cloth.
“It’s somewhere to start.” Miriel threw her hands in the air, a gesture she was getting used to making in this house. The days in this place were exhausting. It wasn’t even lunchtime and she was ready to give up.
“Don’t be like that,” William teased, but he had Miriel sit down on the bed and turn so he could see her side. Once the corset was unlaced the blood began to flow freely and Miriel was forced to lie down so William could reclose the wound with stitches. “Do you require a sedative?” William asked, brimming with professional courtesy.
“Do your job!” Miriel snarled. “And this time try to make the stitches last.”
“You have such little faith in me, Elle. I do know what I’m doing.”
“I am sorry if I don’t seem to have much faith in nineteenth century medicine.”
“Please, Elle.” William had finished cleaning the wound and was now threading a surgical needle. “I was a surgeon, supposed to work the front lines during the war, only stayed a couple of weeks. Then I started here.”
“Why such a quick change?”
“Didn’t have the stomach for it.”
Miriel wanted to ask more questions, specifically about how he could kill for fun but couldn’t manage the impersonal devastation of war, but William had started stitching up the wound and while Miriel wasn’t about to scream she wasn’t going to talk either.
“Alright, Elle, sit up.” William had gone back into professional mode and Miriel had an urge to roll her eyes, but she sat up anyway. “How do they feel?”
Miriel took a couple of breaths without much pain or any excess blood. She looked down at her side and the stitches were much neater this time. They would have a much harder time coming apart. Miriel nodded her approval and re-laced her tourniquet functioning corset.
“Now, if everything is up to your high standards, should we get to that other reason I’m here?” William pulled up a chair and sat across from Miriel, his eyes focused on hers, waiting.
“Well, how am I going to get out of here. I don’t think Madame will let me out on my own, at least not any time soon. Won’t I look even more suspicious? I already don’t fit quite right here.”
“Well, of course.” William looked at her like she wasn’t getting an obvious point. “You might be able to go out alone eventually but not for a long time. You’ll have to work side by side with me.”
“I understand that but exactly what excuse am I going to have for being out with you?”
“Ask Madame Perkins. I’m sure she’ll be dying to tell you all about it the second I’m out the door. Which should be soon, other patients to see. Can’t spend all my time with you just because you complain the loudest, Elle.” He was back to his fake professional voice and Miriel was glad to see him go.
“Well, my dear, isn’t it just a wonderful day.” Madame Perkins hurried into the room after the front door was closed on William.
“Oh?” Miriel still had a hand on her side. The stitches looked fine but she didn’t trust them. The only work she trusted was her own and, up until recently, Lucian’s.
“You have to have some idea of what’s happened.” Madame Perkins looked happy enough to burst.
“Yes?” Miriel looked up, it seemed like the polite thing to do.
Madame Perkins assumed she was getting interested and pulled Miriel over to the window seat, sitting close, she whispered conspiratorially. “After you’ve healed and he no longer has to be your doctor,” the woman paused. “He’s asked to come visit us for tea!”
“Oh?” Miriel was unimpressed but tried not to show it.
“Come now, Elle, this is a wonderful start. Those other women will be so upset you came to me. I just knew you were different.” The woman looked at the assassin with motherly affection. Miriel tried not to laugh. “I see good things in your future.” Madame Perkins winked before going back to her serious self. “Tea will be at two today. It’s time you met the other women.” Without waiting for any kind of response she walked out and slammed the door.
12. Two Years Before the War (Lucian and Kristopher)
“Yesterday’s tragedy has left us feeling shocked, afraid, and angry. An enemy we didn’t know we had has attacked and our security was found desperately wanting. But more than just my feelings on the subject, you want answers. You want a response. You want to know you’ll be safe!”
The crowd cheered and Kristopher spewed some more rhetoric. Lucian watched from the back of the crowd and clapped half-heatedly. Maybe it was just because he knew what was coming next but Lucian was bored. The rhetoric was always the same, the crowds were always inspired the same way, and eventually the whole thing would end tragically, making way for another boring government run by the good guys just waiting to be toppled. Nothing stayed the same forever. The crowds, however, seemed to adore Kristopher, hanging on his every word. He was charming, charismatic, and oozed the feeling that he was a good guy, a guy you could depend on. Lucian felt sorry for these people. They had no idea what they were getting involved in, no idea Kristopher was planning to lead them down a path darker than any they could have imagined.
“I stand here as one of you, a fellow citizen who has been just as outraged by these attacks on our ground. But I come to you with a solution, something that, without a doubt, can make us all unbeatable,” pause for dramatic effect. “Even unkillable.”
There were a few chuckles from the crowd but most people waited for the solution to be handed to them. Kristopher motioned for someone behind the platform to come up. There were six news crews and cameras that had shown up during the course of the speech and all of them were now zoomed in and focused on Kristopher, waiting for whatever was going to happen next. Lucian held his breath. There were so many ways for this to go wrong.
“I give you your truly indestructible leader!”
The minion Kristopher had called on stage aimed a gun a
t his chest, there was the expected sharp intake of breath and shock from the crowd, then the gun was fired. No one knew how to respond, they couldn’t tell if this was all part of the show or if they should start to be worried. It wasn’t too hard to believe there could have been another terrorist attack but it seemed expected somehow. Kristopher fell to the ground and the blood pooled around him unnaturally fast. Lucian worried this public display had annoyed the things who let their games go undisturbed and were now taking everything back. He worried about himself the most, what would it be like to age so much in an instant, what would death feel like when it was finally permanent. Lucian was ready to leave and kill a few people to try and appease death when he saw Kristopher’s body twitch. The blood began to disappear, flowing back into the veins it had so easily left.
There was another gasp from the audience, shock, horror, and a perverse sense of hope. Lucian found his nerves settling back into their old apathetic rhythm. It was going to be easy. Lucian watched the faces in the crowd as Kristopher’s chest began to rise and fall with breath again. They were desperate for any kind of safety, willing to overlook the high costs. Animals always block out the rational when survival is at stake, you couldn’t blame them for that. Kristopher’s eyes opened and his breathing became more regular. The crowd started to mutter to the people around them and everyone started to get excited. Some people left screaming it was an abomination, others bowed and praised him as a god or the second coming. Lucian watched it all eagerly now, so many people now potential new entrants to his cult. The idea was wonderful, everything could spread faster than he ever imagined. The cult would eventually be better than it was in his father’s time. He was building a legacy, one far larger than he could have ever expected. He owed it all to Kristopher.
“I am immortal. What you’ve just seen could happen again. Any time, any place, any means of death. No matter what, I would come back exactly like I am now. I could give this gift to all of our soldiers. Young, innocent boys who don’t deserve to die would no longer be asked to make that sacrifice. We can assure mothers their sons will come home, children that they will see their fathers again. Who would give up this kind of gift for another candidate? Even the worst leader in the world would rule well with this power. And it belongs to me. With one simple election, it could belong to you as well.”
Lucian didn’t like Kristopher taking credit for his work, the politician wasn’t even sure where he went after he died let alone what powers brought him back. Those were the terms he had agreed to, sit in the background and wait. It was a good arrangement but there was always the factor of pride, no matter how often Lucian tried to convince himself it wasn’t about him or it didn’t matter. His pride would always kick in. It did matter to Lucian, as much as he hated to admit it to himself. This was his art, the passion of his life. He wasn’t thrilled watching someone else take credit for it.
“Amazing, absolutely amazing! Isn’t it?” A woman next to Lucian nudged him and pointed to the platform as if he could have missed what happened.
“Yes. Incredible.” Lucian was unable to muster up much enthusiasm but he did force out a response. Then he turned away from the crowd and walked away. There was only so much he could take.
The rest of the crowd rose up and cheered. It seemed all their problems had been solved. No one gave much thought to the fact any threat of war had been neutralized with the double assassination and Kristopher made sure to keep any thought of treaties out of their minds. This would be a war from within for the most part. Kristopher had always known that was how it would turn out. It didn’t matter if the end results were the same and Lucian continued to play along. The game could go international if necessary, but why complicate a good thing. Kristopher had all the bodies he needed right here. The speech was broadcast over every network that night with promises of more replays and interviews in the morning. Lucian’s old house became Kristopher’s base of operations and was bombarded with calls on the new phone lines Kristopher demanded be installed. Several diehard fans even managed to make it to the front door but how they got there before the journalists was a puzzle. Lucian watched with growing disgust as Kristopher answered phones with a practiced smile, telling everyone what they wanted to hear even if it was a conflicting message.
“Why yes, of course. All primary considerations will be given to those members of our military who are also members of our conservative parties. How could you think I’d do any less, Senator. I do, of course, have your support in my -- ” A fake laugh to go with the practiced smile, not that he needed one over the phone. “Why thank you. You know, I’ve always valued your support, you’re experience gives you uncanny foresight into the political sphere and I would just be so grateful to have you on my team. Thank you again. So happy for your support.” Kristopher hung up the phone. “Cranky old bastard, never once got behind me before. Maybe I’ll use him to prolong my life, God knows the country would be better off without him.”
“You’re good at flattery aren’t you? Lucky for you people are willing to overlook all the talk because you have something to back it up.”
“Lucian, people only pretend to overlook flattery. They expect it, especially if it’s not there. All part of politics. Now, speaking of phones, get that for me will you, dear?”
“Excuse me?” Lucian walked over to Kristopher’s desk and methodically hung up every phone.
“That was unnecessary.” Kristopher looked only partially annoyed. “All the secretaries I’ve had have been women. Rather attractive ones too.” He chuckled and waved Lucian away to turn his attention back to the phones, redialing numbers. No doubt with an excuse in hand about bad reception or thinking it was the caller’s opponent. “You can’t blame me for getting confused. And you really do need to do something to help out.”
Lucian was speechless, if it had been prudent or possible to kill Kristopher he would have done it. Instead, Lucian walked to his private room, his father’s old lab. Kristopher had given his word it wouldn’t be disturbed but after being demoted from partner to secretary the politician’s word didn’t mean much. He couldn’t trust his own men at this point, loyalty or not, Kristopher’s flattery was enough to cause a momentary lapse in judgment. Those weren’t the only options. If you couldn’t trust the living you could always go to the dead, and they answered to only one master. The doors to Lucian’s lab locked on another round of Kristopher’s ‘so happy to have your support’ speech but this time Lucian grinned. It was time Kristopher saw exactly what he’d gotten himself mixed up in.
Normally Lucian wasn’t much for theatrics, but this wasn’t for his benefit. It was all for Kristopher. He was a man who was only impressed by things that looked impressive. When bringing people back from the dead Lucian never made mistakes, having started when he was four there was almost no chance of an accident anymore. The words, the rituals, the side of the world where the dead live, all of it was part of him by birth. That was why everything he attempted went perfectly every time. People were brought back the exact age and appearance from the moment of death, their personalities stayed the same and while death did touch them it left no trace of its primal, sometimes evil, force. It didn’t matter how long the body had been dead, Lucian could bring it back to living perfection just by giving it a passing thought. It was mistakes which made Lucian’s necromantic art seem demonic. The chance of creating something not meant to see the world. A zombie, a demon, a monster, the undead, whatever you called them. They were really just a soul gone wrong and corrupted by the unpracticed mind. Lucian had created his share of Dr. Frankenstiens, but now it was his turn to create the monster.
The one good thing about these zombies, these undead half humans, was that they lost their free will with their minds. Meaning they were born waiting for someone to tell them what to do, making them the perfect servants. There was no other choice, but Lucian still grimaced as he barred the doors to his lab. It was hard to think about intentionally doing something wrong. Most had to worry about g
etting a full human back from the dead, now Lucian had to figure out how to leave some key piece of humanity behind. For the first time in his long life Lucian found himself thinking something was too cruel. He wasn’t moved enough to stop.
Somewhere in this room there had to be a guide to something like this. Zombie servants weren’t a new idea and someone must have written a process down. It wasn’t that Lucian needed a step-by-step guide, most of it he could feel, but a second opinion wouldn’t hurt. The book on the stand in the middle of the room really wouldn’t help, as menacing as it was the thing was just a beginner’s guide. It made things look scary and fun, less based in the real world. In a strange way it made everything that went on in the lab easier to handle, like it was just a prop and everything happening inside was just part of a bigger play. What Lucian needed would be found in homemade textbooks. The pictures wouldn’t be ink drawings and speculations, the text wouldn’t be laid out in verse with the first letter of every page illuminated by artists with too much time and too little to do. These would be very real, written with a logic so cold it could stop your heart.
“Ah!” Lucian grabbed a hardcover book from the shelf. It could have passed for an anatomy textbook, the pictures were labeled, every body part and functions spelled out in computerized, unfeeling font. “Now, what do we do for bodies?” Lucian hated talking to himself but the process made him think more efficiently. He pictured Miriel and pretended she was there to listen. She wasn’t his first choice of imagined companions but she was the only person he could call to mind at a moment’s notice. She’d have to do for now.
“The floor, of course, Mi. He always kept leftovers in the floor. They won’t be fresh but they’ll do.” He turned to smile at an empty room.
Kneeling down he started pulling pieces of the floor up, the whole thing was in sections so it wasn’t too difficult. There weren’t full bodies under the floor but there were bones. Lucian could build off those, especially since he wasn’t trying to bring anyone particular back to life. His father never believed in throwing things away, whenever anyone he knew lost a limb he collected it. A bit eccentric, yes, but quite helpful in this kind of situation. Most people needed a full body to perform a resurrection or at least thought they did. Lucian knew better and so did his father. Any kind of mindless servant could be created from anything human, no matter how small. The difference was stability and the length of time the life of the undead would last. Theoretically, you could use a single cell but the creature would be unstable and lose all functionality in a short period. Limbs seemed to work the best, they created something very mindless and devoid of personality that was capable of following orders. It would last for a few months, short enough to prevent any kind of master-servant empathy but long enough they could be useful.
The Price of Life Page 12