Page 29 of Adam, Mine

The man’s eyes rolled in terror as he screamed against Elias’s palm. He was short and stout, balding, fat. His soft hands scrabbled against Elias, nails catching in the cloth wrapped around him.

Elias gripped harder and shook the man with a snap.

“He has blond hair and blue eyes. Matches my height. He took from me and I must find him.”

The man pushed at Elias hard. Elias walked him backward until he was able to pin him to a wall, then leaned close until the man could not move. His thrashing was pulling at Elias’s stitches, and he suppressed a flinch in agony.

“Is he a professor or student here?” he whispered. “I need his name to contact the authorities.”

That seemed to have an impact. The man faltered and put his hands down. But Elias wasn’t stupid enough to let him go.

“He wears very fine clothes and talks like he owns everyone and everything around him,” Elias continued. “He is clever and . . . cruel. He looks to be sixteen or perhaps seventeen.” Elias continued, “Name him and I will leave with haste.”

The man’s eyebrows knotted, then he tapped the back of Elias’s hand.

“Are you seeking Victor Frankenstein? He no longer attends here.” He shook his head and pointed at the door. “Please, go. Leave the rest of the faculty alone.”

Elias looked at him hard. “If I described to you some others, would you be able to give me names?”

“You said you would go if I named one man!” the professor said urgently. “Get out or I will shout!”

Elias bowed his head. “Thank you for this gift.”

Fresh

Victor Frankenstein.

His fingers itched for violence.

Instead, Elias played beggar for a day. Sat on the stoops of all seventeen taverns in Ingelstad, slipped the owners a fee to turn their gaze from him. Gave them more for information on repeat clientele.

It took until sundown to find the tavern where Victor often ate lunch and sometimes dinner. It was near midnight when he found the other tavern where four students came regularly.

The owner of that establishment did not let him stay; it was too nice a place for lepers to be skulking around. But he did mention that university students rarely chose this place as it was expensive and frequented mostly by older men of modest means. The boys stuck out, though they were no more of a nuisance than other customers.

For a fee that would pay for a week’s meat at his family’s tavern, the owner revealed overheard names and times of visitation.

Elias felt nothing. He didn’t feel excitement or anger or worse.

He paid for the upkeep of his horse, then slept in the stables and waited.

It did not take long.

The next evening, they trickled in, wan faced and twitchy. Elias watched them. Waited for them.

Followed them home each night, one after the other until he knew where they slept. Petyr was bedded in a house shared by many unrelated people, bitterly poor. Henry lived on his own in a house not unlike Victor’s. Gregor lived with parents and siblings in a modest apartment. Jonsi, the one who had dropped the champagne glass, was married with no children.

Blade

For the crime of watching as he burned, Elias killed them all.

He had chef’s hands, which had butchered and carved for ten long years. Smooth from tallow soap, strong as they were thin: he strangled Jonsi politely behind the local tannery.

Gregor was strong and fought hard, but he was unarmed. Elias slit his throat in the park. Propped up his body beneath a tree, tilted his hat down over his face.

Petyr looked at him in recognition, at once. But said nothing, did nothing as Elias slid close to him and dragged Franz’s blade across his cheek.

“It should never have happened,” Petyr said.