One Wish
Victor wiped the sweat from his forehead with a trembling hand as he stepped back from the laboratory table, gazing down at the creation of his hands and mind, finally completed after months of grueling work. He had made a woman – a bride for his Creature. She lay cold and lifeless, her dark hair falling lankly over her face, which was all that could be seen of her. The rest was covered with a white sheet.
He reached out and brushed a strand of hair back from the she-creature's face, then shuddered and turned away, hearing thunder rumbling just beyond the rain-grey window. The storm was beginning. Soon the Creature would have his bride, and Victor would be free of him forever. Free to grieve in peace for William.
Victor's face twisted in pain at the thought of his brother, dead at the Creature's merciless hands. Such promise, such innocent wonder... now cut off forever, bloody and strangled, resting in a loveless grave. Victor comforted himself with the thought that nothing could hurt William anymore. Pain was for the living.
He shook his head to clear his mind, starting to set up the mechanisms that would channel the lightning from the storm into the Bride's body, and shock her heart into beating. The Creature would be here for her soon, Victor knew. He watched the rain streak the windowpanes, waiting to see that too-familiar, hulking silhouette looming out of the shadows.
There he came, striding toward the laboratory like the herald of doom, illuminated by the lightning that scarred the cloudy sky. Victor moved slowly to unlock the door, stepping hastily aside as the Creature lumbered through. He pushed his dripping hair out of his face, scattering droplets of water, and trained his gaze upon his creator.
"Is she ready?"
Victor tried not to shudder at the Creature's hated voice, his loathsome appearance. After tonight, he told himself, he would never have to look into that face again. He nodded in response to the question, moving back to the table, pretending to adjust a wire or screw so he wouldn't have to look at either of his creations.
"Yes, she's ready. Nearly. All she needs now is life." Victor turned away and looked steadily out of the window, watching the clouds darken outside, ripped by lightning, blurred by the paths of raindrops on the glass.
The minutes turned slowly to hours as the storm steadily worsened. Victor kept his eyes on the weather outside, listening to the howling wind, the thunder, and the slow, heavy footfalls of the Creature pacing back and forth behind him. It was clear he was getting more and more impatient as time wore on. But finally, there came a flash of lightning that blinded Victor, and made the whole room crackle and hum with electrical energy. The thunderclap that followed seemed to shake the whole building.
As Victor turned around, still half-dazzled, heart pounding, he heard the Creature let out a triumphant hiss of breath, saw the wrinkled lips curl upward in a yellow-toothed grin. They approached the table from different sides, eyes fixed on the Bride. She lay still, unmoving save for the rise and fall of her chest, silent save for the rush of gasping breaths in and out of her wide-open mouth. After many seconds her breathing slowed, deepened. Her eyes moved left and right, blinking, focusing: first on Victor, then on the Creature. The irises were brown, like murky water; the whites had a yellowish tinge.
Victor exhaled, realizing he'd been holding his breath. He looked at the Creature, whose face was lit by a strange joy Victor had never seen in him before. He watched as the Creature reached up and nudged the sheet slightly aside, laying his hand on top of the Bride's with surprising gentleness. Looking back at the Bride's face, Victor saw her smile, her pallid lips now turned faintly pink with the blood pulsing through her.
"My bride..." the Creature whispered, his other hand moving up to touch her cheek. His expression was soft as he looked upon his wife, but it hardened in a moment as he turned to look down at Victor again, growling out an order. "Free her from this machine."
Victor nodded, quickly doing as he was told, then stepping back to the wall and watching from a safe distance. The Creature pulled back the sheet from the Bride's body and helped her to stand, one hand at her back, the other holding her hand as she took a few slow, limping steps. He stepped back and studied her, and Victor, too, found that he couldn't tear his eyes away.
She was tall, the top of her head coming up to the Creature's cheekbone, and every bit as hideous as the Creature himself was. Her body was crisscrossed with stitches: around her neck, across her chest and stomach, over her collarbone, near her groin, and some along her arms and legs. One hand was slightly smaller than the other, one leg an inch or so longer, one breast perhaps differently-shaped: all in all she was a foul patchwork of limbs and organs from multiple female corpses. They were perfectly matched, then, Victor thought bitterly. She was made for him, after all. And the Creature had no right to complain if she was repulsive; he had asked for this himself.
The Creature nodded slowly, smiling again; Victor was relieved to see that he seemed satisfied with his new lifemate. The Creature picked up the sheet again, wrapping it around the Bride's body, tearing and knotting it inexpertly into a crude but serviceable garment – a fitting wedding gown for such a vile wife, Victor thought to himself. The Bride stayed still, watching the Creature in silence as he dressed her.
A thought dallied through Victor's mind as he stood watching his creations, with the laboratory wall cold and unyielding against his back. They needed names, if only to have something to address each other by. But what could he name them, and how would they react to it? He set his mind to thinking of names, his eyes on the hideous husband and wife.
The Creature was caressing his Bride now, tracing the needlework along her arms with his fingertips as she did the same to him. It was somehow both revolting and beautiful to Victor, two abominations finding tenderness and companionship in each other. He felt glad, and at the same time sick to his stomach, at the joy he had given his Creature – a joy that had come at a terrible cost. But now the four of them could all be happy: the Creature with his Bride, and Victor with Elizabeth, his betrothed. They would never need to see each other again.
As Victor stood reflecting darkly on all that had happened since the Creature's awakening, the good as well as the bad, a name came to him: Jaegar. It meant "hunter", and though it was technically a surname it certainly suited the Creature, who had done nothing but pursue Victor for months, leaving death and destruction in his wake. Yes, he thought, it would do. Now he needed a name for the Bride.
He looked her over again, seeing the raw strength in her limbs, coupled with tenderness. Her ragged dress and unkempt hair gave her the look of a savage, feral woman, and he imagined her dwelling in woods or caves, as she and the Creature would probably do to avoid contact with humankind. Wilda, he would name her – the wild woman.
Thus decided, but no less emboldened, Victor took a careful step forward and spoke.
"Creature," he announced, craning his neck a little to look up at him, "I have another gift to give you, if you will accept it. And one for your bride as well."
The Creature turned from his bride and looked down at Victor, saying nothing, his expression questioning. Victor took that as an invitation to continue.
"I have decided to give you each a name," he told them, looking from one to the other as he spoke: first the Creature, then the Bride. "You will be called Jaegar, and you, Wilda."
The two looked at each other, then at Victor; he looked back uneasily, watching their faces: they both looked curious, pensive, but not displeased. There was silence for several seconds, until finally Jaegar spoke, his voice a low rumble like distant thunder.
"Thank you."
These were the first kind words Victor could ever remember hearing from him; taken aback at first, he looked at Jaegar in confusion, wondering if he had heard correctly.
"I... what...?"
"Thank you," Jaegar repeated, gazing steadily at Victor. "You have given me my one wish, and more besides. Now we will leave you, and never haunt your steps again. If we do meet again, it will not be by any plan of ours. Farewell, Victor Frankenstein."
Victor looked up at his creations, standing hand-in-hand, and saw them for a moment in a new light. He had created them, sewn them together with his very hands. They were the closest thing he had to a son and daughter; he had done little if anything to help his son to live, leaving him to die at first. Jaegar had murdered William in cold blood in repayment of that. Victor could have decided not to follow through with his request for a wife – he could have torn her apart before she ever breathed – but something had compelled him to follow through. A sense of paternal duty, perhaps, come much too late.
He swallowed and nodded once. "Yes. Farewell, Jaegar and Wilda. I... hope you find somewhere you can live in peace." He realized as he spoke that he truly did mean what he said.
Victor stepped aside, pressing against the wall again. Jaegar and Wilda walked silently past him to the laboratory door, still holding hands. Wilda glanced back at him over her shoulder as they opened the door and crossed the threshold, but Victor couldn't see what her expression held. He stood and watched without speaking as his son and daughter took leave of him forever, their silhouettes vanishing quickly into the rainy night, never to return.