A/N Thank you everyone for your comments so far! I appreciate them all. Hope you enjoy this chapter.
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I started to notice something was wrong shortly after you left Carl began. I'd been trying not to think about Tallander's parting shot, as it were, but the matter preyed heavily on my mind, as you probably noticed – for future reference, by the way, my tolerance for alcohol is rather greater than it was, so trying to get my drunk on half a flask on cheap whisky was a trick doomed to failure. I had rather hoped that the increased tolerance was Tallander's gift, but sadly that proved not to be the case.
The first time I really noticed anything was the day after you departed for India, I think – I'd been praying in my cell, something I don't often do, and I took my Bible to bed – the actual Bible, you know, not that book of Da Vinci's, though I usually prefer the latter. Anyway, I was searching for a particular passage in Genesis when to my amazement, the pages started riffling, and turned up at exactly the right place! It caused me quite a shock, as you can imagine, but since it was very late and I was exhausted, I fell asleep still thinking about it and in the morning, I couldn't be sure whether or not it had been a dream.
The next day, I was at matins and feeling very bored – oh, don't look at me like that, Van Helsing ,you know you can't stand it either; it's so repetitive – when I got a sudden and violent cramp in my left leg. I stood up suddenly to relieve it, a perfectly justified action as I'm sure you'll agree, and Abbot Bardens gave me such a filthy look – it was embarrassing. I remember wishing I could throw my prayer book at his silly old head – and lo and behold, it shot right along the floor! The book, I mean, not the Abbot's head. No-one really noticed, but I knew now for certain that Something Odd was happening.
There were lots of little things like that over the next few days, and they seemed to increase in strength and frequency. At first I thought that Tallander had cursed me with a sort of demon, or poltergeist – you know, a noisy spirit – but then I came to understand that all this supernatural activity was coming from me. Some force within me was acting on physical objects and making them move around. I do wonder, by the way, if that's what a poltergeist is – not actually a ghost but some force within a person, linked perhaps to a spirit or demon, which...all right, all right, I'll get back to the point.
The problem got slowly worse, and more alarming. It was perhaps five weeks after you left that I discovered my ability to produce and control flame. Don't look so startled, you saw the stove – and remember the fires in the church, that night you finally drove Tallander out of me? I should have expected it really; now I realised exactly what was happening, just what Tallander's 'gift or curse' really was.
How did it happen? Well, in a small way at first. I was reading in my cell when a gust of wind blew out the candle. I was groping around in the dark for my tinderbox when it came back to life as bright as ever. This happened a few times; candles and lamps seemed to light themselves when I was in the room.
You can imagine that I was terrified. I had been tainted with a power given to me by a demon; I felt unclean, and I was afraid to tell anyone about it. Right up until that incident in the lab, however, I truly didn't think my new ability was a genuine threat to anyone, and I'd begun – in all honestly – to enjoy it a little. I see now how wrong I was, how easily power corrupts. Don't even think about telling me it isn't so – I saw your face, back in Transylvania, when you...but never mind that.
The incident in the laboratory was my fault, though no one understood why I blamed myself, and I couldn't explain. Did the Cardinal tell you about it? I thought he might be sharp enough to associate it with my disappearance, even though there was no logical connection. I was nowhere near the Rotating Barrage Mark II when it went off, but no one could explain how it did so, when the safety was supposed to be on; and I'd been thinking how much I'd like to see it fired, and Brother John kept messing about and saying it wasn't ready yet and I was getting impatient and...and it just – went off.
It was horrible. As it happened, God be thanked, no one was hurt, but they easily could have been – I realised that this curse of mine was growing stronger and moreover, that I could not consciously control it; I'd experimented with it, of course, when I realised what it was, but everything I tried to do went wrong. Pictures fell off walls rather than righting themselves as I intended; when I tried to call a wrench across the room to me, it hit me in the head quite forcefully. It was frustrating, at first, but after the lab incident it became truly frightening. It was dangerous; I was dangerous, and the only option was to leave, to cut myself off entirely from people so that I wouldn't be a threat to them.
It wasn't the solution I wanted; what I really wanted was to confide everything to you, or even Cardinal Jinette, since you weren't there – don't look so guilty, you couldn't have known what would happen, and those people in India needed you. Anyway, I won't dwell on what it cost me to make my choice, all that needs to be said is that I packed up a few books and things I couldn't bear to leave, and slipped out that night, when everyone was asleep. I knew about this old manor; an acquaintance of mine, who'd taken messages to the cardinals, mentioned that it had been set on fire by some young men from the nearest village – almost fifteen years ago, this was, but I remembered it. So did you, obviously. I didn't think of that, which is a testament to how shaken and distressed I really was when I came here.
So here I am – temporarily, anyway. I meant to stay a few nights, but to be perfectly honest, with the prospect of an empty, solitary, purposeless future before me, I felt disinclined to move on. It's peaceful here; the forest keeps it hidden and quiet, there's even a small lake behind the house – and I feel safe. I was sure no one would find me here, which in retrospect was obviously quite stupid, but I wasn't thinking clearly. I was – distraught – for some time, but I think it's all out of my system now. Resigned to my fate, as it were. After all, what's the alternative? I'll move on, I suppose, now you've turned up – find some isolated nook, cut myself odd completely, live off roots and berries in a Godforsaken corner of the world – rather like our old friend, the Frankenstein creature. It never occurred to me when we parted from him that one day I'd be empathising with his situation.
I'll be all right, you know. I'm adaptable. I have that sort of mind. I'll be satisfied with my books and my own brain – perhaps I'll even be able to acquire tools to make things with. If not I'll just design them, come up with ideas and leave them all for someone for find when – when I'm gone. I wouldn't want my life to be a waste. I've made up my mind that I'll take whatever happens afterwards as it comes – there's no point worrying about it yet. Unless you end up having to kill me of course – a joke, Van Helsing! It was a joke. Gallows humour, you know? You used to understand that. Anyway, I may find a way to atone, and after all, thousands of people must go to Hell every day. It can't be that bad. Full of lawyers, I understand, though I do wonder if Abbot Burnsley used to say that because of the taxation trouble he had during – Abbot Burnsley? He was in charge of the abbey where I grew up, in England...I thought I'd mentioned him? Save him for another day? What other day, Van Helsing? I'm off into the wilderness after this conversation, don't forget.
A long pause
The only thing I'm still afraid of, really afraid of, is that Tallander, not Lucifer, might be waiting for me on the other side.
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A/N Comments welcome! How was that chapter? How did you find Carl's voice? I've never written in the first person from his perspective before. By the way, I'm writing this up while watching the movie on my laptop, and Carl's just said the wet dog line ;-) Next chapter – the last one written so far – Van Helsing offers Carl a deal.
