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“I had no idea he had such a talent for fiction.”
“Mm,” she said. “You were also murdered by Adam on your wedding night! Such drama. Victor was committed to an asylum for some time after, so great was his mourning.”
“That insufferable ass,” I hissed.
Mary laughed. “He certainly has a flair for talking about himself. And so many descriptions of mountains! He is quite enamored of their grandeur.”
“You should burn his journals.”
“That is your solution to everything, not mine. I have also been studying his work. He is insane, and a murderer, but his mind…” She trailed off, something like admiration on her face. Then she shook her head as though physically pushing the thought away. “If it makes you feel any better, I understand how you could have thought so highly of him and been blind to his true nature. His mind truly is remarkable.”
I sighed. “It was not his mind I loved. It was his esteem for me. He valued me when no one else did. And I thought it made me special, that he loved only me. I should have realized that his inability to love anyone else just meant something was wrong with him.”
“Oh, Elizabeth, you sweet, sad thing,” Mary said brightly. “I think you are special. And I love a lot of people. Well. I love some people….” She paused. “At least two people. I definitely love two people. As long as you count Adam as a person, which we do.”
I laughed, hugging her awkwardly around her massive furs. “Hurry back.”
She kissed my cheek, then attached her snowshoes. I braced myself as she opened the door. The wind flung it inward, blowing in snow and lowering the temperature dramatically. Mary was bent nearly horizontal as she pushed out and fought against the wind to walk on top of the snow. I wrestled the door shut, barring it with relief and feeding the stove.
That afternoon, with the soft, cold sunlight and the warm stove, waiting for my friends to return, I decided: We would not let Victor dictate our lives anymore. We had run. We had waited. We would settle and let him find us or remain forever a mystery. I did not mind where we ended up, so long as I had my little family of three.
* * *
—
Mary’s desperate knock on the door sounded. I rushed up from the nap I had fallen into and unbarred the door. It flew open with even more force than normal, knocking me to the floor.
“Close it!” I shouted, lifting my arm to cover my eyes from the snow blowing in and the glare of the sun blinding me.
The door shut, and I lowered my arm to find Victor looming over me.
“Hello, my wife.”
I kicked out at his shins, crawling back toward the table. Victor dodged, stepping around my legs and kicking my arms so I fell flat on the floor. We had pistols and rifles beneath the bed, but I could not get to them. I rolled over to face him.
He was holding a pistol of his own. He had come prepared. His dark hair was covered by a fur hat, which was caked with snow. How long had he lain in wait outside our shack to catch me?
All this time we thought we were setting a trap for him. And now I was trapped, alone.
“I have a sled outside with dogs. We will be miles away before that woman knows you are gone. And I know the monster is a full day away, even at his tremendous pace.” He leaned down and smiled at me, the coldly possessive expression reminding me of his father. “Did you really think this would work?”
I scooted back. He watched me, ready to spring. I stopped when my back hit the crate. There was nowhere to run. I could not get the pistols before he could stop me. And if I struggled, doubtless he would drug me again, and I would lose any chance to fight.
“You will be happy to know I am finally ready,” he said. “It has not been easy, but you would neither understand nor appreciate what struggles I have endured. Anticipating your gratitude after your change has sustained me. It has also allowed me to forgive you for your lack of faith in me.”
“I will never be yours,” I said, hollow and lacking conviction.
He crouched down so we were eye level. I no longer pretended for him, and he did the same. His true self was revealed. It was like looking at a portrait—flat, lifeless, no soul beneath the strokes. Had I really never seen it, or had I always chosen to look away, as he said?
“There was never another path for you. Consider how much worse it has all been for me. How much I have had to suffer. And how much of that suffering has been caused directly by you!” His face twitched and his fingers tightened on the pistol. Then he sighed. “It does not do to dwell on it. There is no point in fighting. This is your fate, Elizabeth Frankenstein. I will let no other claim you—not man, not death, not even God.” He stood, holding out his hand.
“If I come, will you let Mary and Adam be?”
“Who the devil is Adam?”
“He is—” I would not say the monster.
Victor caught on. “Oh, Adam. A man’s name for something so much less. But yes. They can do whatever they wish. I have no use for them.” He smiled. It was the smile I had taught him. And I knew he gave it to me now so I would not have to see the truth. Of course he would not let them live. Mary had tried to take what was his, and Adam was a reminder of failure. He would take me, and then he would destroy them. Or in Mary’s case, use her body for something unspeakable.
