Page 103 of Adam, Mine

Victor smirked, fond.

“It will have to do.”

Victor read slow and steady, waited for Elias to repeat the lines after him. Elias was not sure what this felt like on the other side, but for him it was a great unraveling.

The cord that bound them snapped in small pieces, one at a time, like rope holding up a bridge with too much weight. Elias could feel his own strength draining and hear Victor’s voice getting more powerful.

Victor paused when they reached the last line. Then he looked up at Elias.

“Oh,” he said.

“What?”

Victor smiled. “Nothing.”

He turned back to the incantation and spoke his last. Elias did not have time to follow him.

Victor

Elias sat up.

His heart felt strong pumping in his chest, and when he looked down at his hands, his scars had faded to silver, barely visible. He was hungry, too. In a different way than before, and he knew at once what had happened.

Victor lay beside him, cold.

When Elias closed his eyes and searched for the thread, it was gone. His head was quiet and it was awful.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. Went to the other side and drew Victor’s arms across his chest. Brought the sheet up to preserve his modesty.

He prayed the same prayer he had for Victor’s family, and then another to deliver him into their arms safely.

Then he prayed again, for himself.

Elias dressed. He left his harness on the floor with his knives and his doll. He took the book and the papers from Victor’s coat and the protection of his name, freely given.

Then he walked out into the world, new.

Penance

The train car was warm and there was no one else inside his booth.

While they were all boarding, their conductor had joked that everyone should take advantage of the space. The farther they went, the more people would be clambering on, chasing the warmth of the south. Germany was not that far, after all.

Elias unwrapped the package on his lap. White and tied with a bow. They’d even included a real silver fork, which made his eyes crinkle with amusement.

It felt strange not to be able to share the feeling. There was no one listening to him in that way anymore.

Elias sliced a piece off the honey cake and held it up to his nose, breathing in its summer smell.

Then Margarite’s child, careful to the end, only licked the tines.

–

Remember that I am thy creature; I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. Everywhere I see bliss, from which I alone am irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend.

Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.

1900