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* * *
—
“Victor Frankenstein?” a man with a mustache as wiry and anemic as his frame asked, speaking French. “What do you want him for?”
“I am his cousin,” I said. I was not, but it was the term we had been told to use for each other. His father and mother were always careful not to let us call each other brother or sister. Though they fed and clothed and educated me alongside him until he left for the city school and then university, they made me keep my own surname and never formally adopted me.
I lived with the Frankensteins. I was not one. And I never forgot it.
The man let out a wheezing sort of grunt, tugging on the ends of his mustache. “I have not seen him in more than a year. He said he needed more space. Arrogant bastard he was, too. Claimed I was spying on him, as if I would be interested in the lunatic scribblings of a student. I am a doctor, you know!”
“Oh?” Justine said, upset by his agitation and seeking to soothe him. “Of what?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, squinting up and to the side as though something had caught his eye. “Eastern languages. Poetry, specifically. Chinese and Japanese, but I know some Korean as well.”
“I am certain that is ever so useful to you here, running a student boardinghouse.” I offered my cutting words with a dagger of a smile. How dare he insult my Victor.
He narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I can see the family resemblance now.”
Realizing I was playing this wrong, I shifted my face. Let my eyelids hang just a bit heavier, tilted my chin, smiled as if I had never had a secret. “Poetry is so beautiful! Your boarders truly are fortunate. Imagine how oppressive being aided through school by a mathematician would be! Everything cold numbers. Your rooms must be highly in demand. I can only assume Victor needed more space for some practical reason.”
Now the man looked confused, thrown by my abrupt shift and already doubting the meanness he had seen. “Er. Well. Yes. He never said why he needed more working room.”
“Do you have his new address?”
His eyebrows warred between wry and apologetic. “We have not kept in touch since he called me a fool with silk between my ears.”
I put my fingers to my mouth in mock outrage, though really it was to cover my grin. How I had missed Victor! “The strains of his studies must have been great indeed for him to act in such a manner. He has probably remained a stranger since out of tremendous guilt for his ill-treatment of you.” I pulled out one of the cards I had written up that morning. Frau Gottschalk had added the cost of the ink to our bill. “If you remember anything, or if he comes by to apologize, will you be so kind as to let me know? We are staying at Frau Gottschalk’s House for Ladies for a short time.” I held out the card and pressed it into his palm with slightly more contact than was necessary. This time his look was less confused and more dazzled.
I was not good with only the Frankensteins after all. Frau Gottschalk was simply terrible. Though we left Victor’s old housing no closer to finding him, some of my confidence was restored.
Justine pointed out a café and we stopped to have tea. The decor left a bit to be desired, if one desired things like taste or elegance. But it was relatively clean, and the tea was hot. I wanted to rest my face over the steam, let my soul steep in the heat alongside the tea leaves.
“What should we do now?” Justine had her hands beneath the table, worrying at something. We were the only women there, the rest of the patrons easily identifiable as students by their ink-stained fingers and ghostly pallor. Every brow furrowed by intense concentration made me miss Victor even more. However, most of the brows unfurrowed and rose in interest as Justine and I spoke. I pretended not to notice. Justine did not have to pretend, as she always seemed genuinely unaware of the effect we had on men. I, however, was perfectly aware of my beauty. I considered it a skill, alongside speaking French, English, Italian, and German. It was a language of its own, in a way; one that translated well in different circumstances.
“Do you have any other letters?” Justine asked. “Contacts we can use?” I saw now she held a little lead soldier toy, rubbing it like a talisman. William’s, most certainly. Of the three Frankenstein boys, I had no use for any but Victor. Justine loved the other two enough for both of us.
I stirred my tea, letting the dented silver spoon clink against the plain china. Ingolstadt was not a large city, but it was by no means small. It had an impressive student population. There would be no shortage of housing for young men, if Victor had taken up a new residence in a house like his previous one.
“This is a mystery.” I grinned conspiratorially at Justine. “Just like the ones I tell you.”
Her attention was tugged back from where it doubtless hovered over William and Ernest back at Frankenstein Manor. “Will there be a jewel thief and a daring midnight ambush?”
I dropped two cubes of sugar into Justine’s tea. She liked things as sweet as possible, though she would never take more sugar than anyone else at the table unless pushed. “Well, since we are hunting a scholar, I think jewels are out of the question. And our landlady would have us on the streets if we were caught out at midnight. But I promise at some point we will unmask a villain.”
Justine laughed prettily, and now I knew every eye in the café was on us. I could feel them. It was like wearing an extra layer of clothing. Just a touch heavier, just a touch more constricting.
I resisted the urge to tug at my high lace collar. My eyes closed and I twitched once, imperceptibly, against the confines of my pristine and expensive clothing.
* * *
—
It was both a relief and an agony when Victor was deemed socialized enough to begin attending the local school instead of staying home for private tutoring. I had more hours to myself during the day during which I did not have to be anything to anyone, so long as I kept up my language lessons and my art. Yet I was bitterly jealous of Victor. Every morning he was rowed across the lake to other children and other minds, to learn and to grow, while I was left behind. I always stood at the dock until he disappeared, every muscle tense, wanting to be with him but also longing to run.
I used the time to wander. Though I had been half feral during my years before the Frankensteins, here my explorations had always been at Victor’s side and therefore entailed a certain amount of wariness. I had to be accountable to him always, in my emotions, my reactions, my expressions.
Alone, I discovered the raw natural beauty of his home in a new way. The snowcapped mountains loomed along the skyline, watching all I did. I nicknamed them Judge and Madame Frankenstein. The lake, placid and beautiful and mysterious, I nicknamed Victor. But the trees—the trees were mine.
