A/N With this chapter, we introduce a new voice….
Chapter Ten
Therese
Thomas is working harder every day. He experiences some pain, but his toes move and he is capable of getting out of the chair if supported. Victor has two of the men come to support him as he takes small, gliding steps.
Frau Radmacher wanders through giving the men an admonishing look. She is a caring woman, but one look from her stern countenance makes the men jump to attention. "His back must be kept straight," she snaps. The men lean him more upright. Even Thomas attempts to keep his head higher until she passes through.
I can see the beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. After a turn and a walk to the other end of his faltering course, he collapses in his chair. I go to wheel him to his room, giving his hand a squeeze, "Well done, Thomas. You are getting stronger."
In his room he motions to the dresser, "Hand me my writing board, please. I need to send letters. I hope to be out of here by Christmas."
I fetch him his supplies and his board to write on. "Thomas, we will need your help."
Thomas
She is speaking softly, as if she fears the walls could carry the tale of her words to Victor. I am alert to her reference to 'we'.
"What is it, lass?"
"Michael says that Victor kept journals while he did his experiments. He believes that even now, Victor may be writing down his plans for us. Will you help me find them?"
"Of course, Therese. But you can barely read; I'll have to read them for you."
She looks at me, and I can see in her eyes her fear. I reach for her hand and smile up at her. "No matter what is in those books, I will forever be your friend, Therese."
I did not realize the horror that I would find on those pages.
The Demon
I walk through the woods in the early morning. The light snow makes the grass brittle to snap under my feet. This is a dangerous time for me; my tracks could be picked up and followed. I go once again to check Victor's traps. They lay partially covered by blown snow and leaves, and in one is a poor fox that was in too much of a hurry after a meal.
She is a beautiful creature. In my previous life I might not have taken that view. Her pelt looks silken, and her eyes are bright with intelligence. She makes no noise, but struggles as she senses me approaching. Her poor paw is a ruin, and I wonder if would be more of a mercy to snap her neck. She stills as I lift my hand to her. Perhaps her small brain does not know what to make of my strange eyes either.
I snap open the trap and she makes a clumsy leap out of it. Her paw is a bent, bloody shape now. Perhaps she tried to chew it off in a panic to be free of the pain and the imprisonment. I am unusually fast for a human now that Victor has altered my muscles and joints. I snatch her by the neck, and lift her torso carefully. I speak softly as I examine her paw, and hold her loosely. I pull her into the warmth of my body under my stolen coat. She seems uneasy with this position, her body quivers, but she does not leap about.
We sit for a long time in the quiet morning air. Her ears flick about and her whiskers twitch, reacting to the birds. I am satisfied that although her paw was crushed, it is no longer bleeding. Now that she has warmed herself with me, I relax my hands, and let her go when she chooses. I have nothing in the world to offer her except my hope that she survives. She will be one less innocent snared by Victor.
Therese
I wheeled Thomas into the study. We know that Elisabeth is with the children, and the staff is conducting morning rounds with Victor. We select a few books and lay them out on the desk, as if we are searching through them, and then start looking for his journals.
The clock marks the passage of time; each tick seems to portend an approaching discovery as we go through shelves and drawers. Many pieces of furniture are made with secret drawers where jewels or money are kept.
Thomas finally finds three similar books in a space behind a drawer. Pulling one out and flipping through pages, his face lights up, "I've got one."
I move over behind his shoulder. I know my name when it is written in French, but do not know the words that he is reading. I watch him turn pages, and move back towards the door to listen. Thomas is turning pages faster, his eyes study the page. Occasionally he swears in his English words. He is not happy about something. I am watching the door; I jump as I hear a loud snap behind me.
"Damn the man," he says.
"What is it, Thomas?"
His earnest face betrays distaste. "He does not betray his secrets but hints that you will be taken from here."
"Nothing else?"
He sighs and shakes his head, looking down at the blanket across his chair. "I'm sorry, Therese. All we can do is talk to Michael tonight and see what we can do."
He puts the books back in the order he removed them. We take a new book with us. Thomas begins reading it out loud as we go down the hall and away from Victor's journals.
Thomas
It is very late, but I have left a light near my window. I sit in my chair facing outside, hoping Michael will come. I have only seen him once, and I do not know if he will trust me enough to come at my behest.
I fell asleep, but wake as the cold outside air brushes me, Michael stands before the open window. There is snow melting on his coat as he comes into the light near me. "I read Victor's journals."
His strange eyes bore into me, his lips set in an expression of distaste. "And what did you find?"
I run a hand over my face. He must see how it is shaking. It isn't fear of him I feel; it is fear for him and Therese. "We cannot talk here," I tell him.
With a curt nod, he turns back to the window, pulling my chair closer. He picks me up easily and maneuvers me through the window, taking me to the abbey.
He carries me easily against him, his steps light in the snow as he strides towards the building. He doesn't even seem to be breathing hard as he gets me inside and carries me up a set of stairs.
He sets me down on a pallet and lights a candle. Around me is a barren space, a few wooden crates take up a small portion of the loft. On one are the candle and two books. In the flickering light, I see that one is Paradise Lost.
He tosses his coat aside as he settles himself on the floor in front of me. "Did you tell Therese what you read?"
"No," I can hear the sorrow in my voice. "I thought it better if she doesn't know."
His alien eyes move over my face. In an odd way, it is really the only way you know where he is looking since there is no central pupil. "Go on," he prompts softly.
I start talking, details spilling from my lips from what I remember of Victor's words. I stop occasionally to describe pictures he drew of his work, studies of the body. When I reach the ending of the tale, I can feel the icy terror of what I am to reveal.
I pause for a moment; he is sitting with his hands clasped together. I can see how white his knuckles are. This must be devastating for him.
"Victor hopes to drag out this peace you endure together." My voice is faltering. "He hopes that you will tire of waiting and rape her." As the words leave my lips, I feel unclean. "She is fertile, Michael. And so are you." I take a breath, my stomach clenching as I have to tell him, "He wants whatever child you could get on her."
He throws his head back like a man who is drowning, gasping for air. His body shaking, he leaps to his feet and turns away from me. Hands to his face, I can hear the keening sound that escapes from his lips. He turns and kicks one of the crates; it explodes in a deafening hale of splinters. Head down he paces across the loft, hands clenching.
My greatest fear as I watch him is that I have given him the final reason the kill Victor. If that were to happen now, he truly would be hunted down like an animal. I sit with the wall supporting my back and look at my legs. I can't bear to see the pain he is in. I know he truly loves her, or he would not be so tortured.
"Michael, I plan to be gone from here by Christmas."
He stops, "Take her with you."
"I can book passage for you as well."
He shakes his head violently, and turns towards me. Hands outstretched he kneels down by me. "Look at me," he says through clenched teeth. "I am a monster."
He is frightening. Not just his strange eyes, but the simmering anger that emanates from him. His every move reveals the power of his body, but it is his words that assure me that there is an intelligent man inside. His anguish over Therese also tells me there is a man with a loving heart.
"You can't let her go alone, Michael."
"I have to," he replies softly.
I am getting angry now. "Damn it man, if you send her away she will spend her days wondering what happened to you and blaming herself!"
He sits back and stares at me. His voice is almost dreamy, "It' my fault. I should have done away with Victor. I could have saved all of us if I had done it." He tells me the story as he remembers it; the other man, the creation of the women, Victor's attempt to kill him that led him to kill Curt.
"Merciful Christ," I tilt my head back against the wall. "Victor, what have you done?"
"I only wanted to not be alone."
His voice sounds so forlorn. It is the voice of a man who is giving in. I lift my head, grabbing his arm. Giving it a shake I tell him, "We need a plan, Michael. We may not have any time to spare." I point to his head, "Use that brain he gave you, man. You know him best."
Michael
Thomas' face is a portrait of a man who has decided to take up a quest.
"Master Wetherden I have had few gifts in my life, but I think you have just given me hope."
