Thank you all for your patience! I will hopefully update again in two-three weeks.
Georgia groaned loudly. An intense pain shot through her head, rendering her other senses useless, all she felt was blinding agony from her forehead. She attempted to open her eyes but saw nothing. Panic settled over her and she felt like she was spinning, but she was positive that she was not moving. Her fingers stretched and flexed and sought some understanding of where she was. Ridged fingertips felt the cold and smooth surface beneath her. Was she on a table? Her entire body was too numb to tell. The pain in her head was unbearable and Georgia quickly forgot what she was searching for.
"Don't move," instructed a voice that sounded vaguely familiar.
"Wh—" she mumbled. One more attempt to open her eyes resulted in her knowing that she could, in fact, see nothing. To her horror, she soon realized that she could no longer hear. Sleep took her in its comforting embrace. time and reality no longer existed to her.
Why was it cold? Georgia woke with a jolt, but her startled body was still unable to move much. Her surroundings gradually became clearer, she gasped in exaltation that her sight remained intact, but it was short lived. Instead, her mouth opened in horror at what lay above her.
Rope and wire lined the ceiling, chains wove around the shafts and beams that held the structure together. A butcher's cleaver gleamed in the candlelight around the room. Georgia felt her heart pulsating in her ribs as the reality of her nightmare set in. Her eyes darted around and then down at herself. No wonder she couldn't move, her arms were pinned to her sides and she was strapped to a table.
Before she could think she began screaming. Her voice sounded hoarse to her ears, a strange echo of the woman she was. Hot tears fell from the corner of her eyes; the pain in her head returned with a vengeance, but she continued to scream and call for help to anyone who might be near.
The door to the room holding her swung open and brutal waft of cold air followed a man inside. From where Georgia lay she couldn't see who it was, but she called for help regardless.
"No one is coming, Georgia," stated the man. She knew that voice, but from where?
"Where am I?" Her panicked voice trembled. Green eyes darted around the room and noticed a board covered in odd mathematical equations. All of it seemed foreign and complicated to her, it only served to increase her fear. But hidden in the corner of the room, next to a stack of books and pinned to a board was a drawing of someone. "Rossignol. . . ."
"Please don't make this harder than it has to be. If you hadn't— if you hadn't loved that abomination, we wouldn't be here now."
Georgia attempted to crane her head around to see the man, but she was only met with the sight of another table. On it was another person, a woman whose features were hidden beneath a sheet. "What is this place? How do you know Rossignol?"
The man scoffed. "I made him," he spat. "He is a menace and I must live with the crime of creating him. . . and the other one."
The sheet over the woman was then ripped away. On the slab was a corpse of someone she did not recognize. "This," said the man, "was the wife of Felix, the man— the abomination— that was supposed to kill you. He failed and now I must be the one who carries out the deed. I've created life, but I have never destroyed it. Trust me, this is not what I want. I am not doing it to hurt my creation. It must be done to save Elizabeth and my father. I'm sorry, Georgia."
"Victor?" That voice was so familiar, it had yelled at her enough times that she should have guessed sooner. "Victor, please don't do this. If they're in danger, we can get them help. We'll go to the police. Sir John—"
"Can do nothing!" Screamed Victor. Georgia could finally see him. He was wild, with a starved look in his eye and a complexion that almost made Georgia sick for him. Victor grabbed that table where the ice cold Agatha lay, and shoved it forward. The table screeched as it moved and broke a wooden chair when it came to a halt.
Another table stood on the other side of Agatha. There was no sheet covering the person on the table and Georgia was given no opportunity to prepare for the sight of Deliah's glazed over, lifeless eyes. Her servant was pale grey, her vitality was as a fading dream, but her youth was frozen in time. She stared blankly back at Georgia.
"Victor!" She shrieked as tears burst like a river through a dam. Her body acted on its own accord and she began shaking violently. "Let me go! Please!"
Victor seemed to gain some control over himself. His face relaxed and shushed Georgia gently and smoothed her hair. He was tender with her and caring. "I don't want to kill you, but your aunt, she helped me realize that I have too. You were going to marry that monster." Victor's face screwed up in disgust. He turned green at the implication and understanding. "I put him together from the rotting corpses of convicts and killers, Georgia. You wanted to mate with that abhorrent creature."
Georgia's brain immediately began sifting through everything she had ever heard or seen about Rossignol. Her mind fought with her heart, she fought against what she understood was the truth. But her mind hurled more at her and thoughts of her estranged aunt demanded her attention. "W-why would my aunt want me dead, Victor?" There had to be a reason, but it alluded her.
He scoffed once again and withdrew from her. "That is what you focus on. . . . Your aunt killed your brother. She did it with poison. Your grief-stricken parents always believed she had a hand in it, they were right of course. Your brother stood in her way to your father's wealth, just as you do. They cut her out of their lives. Then your mother died and your aunt wanted back into your father's life. Your father was an idiot, Georgia. Your aunt had him poison over time; subtle hints of this and that so no one would notice. She is a terrible woman and I know that she will kill Elizabeth if I do not deliver your body. When I complete my task, I will be free."
Georgia stretched her hands, her bindings were loose, but it would take a great deal of work before she would be free of her restraints. Despite the pounding in her head, she was determined to survive and get away. "How did you did you come to meet my aunt?"
Color drained from Victor's face. "My creation. She knew about him from Deliah— oh, yes, Georgia. Your servant was not your friend. Be glad her use ran out. Lady Adler has many spies. She learned of him and me. I—" he paused and looked about the room. All the windows were boarded shut. The smell of damp and decay was stifled only because of the winter chill. It was the only way to hide his gruesome work.
"I haven't spent anytime recovering," he continued, pacing around the room as he recounted all that led them to this moment. "I meant to, and at first, I did. Then your aunt found me. She persuaded my father to enlist the help of her physicians, but they pried into my work until madness took me again. If I helped her, the demon would be taken care of, and my family would be safe again."
Georgia waited for him to say more. Her movements halted, and she could hear her sweat hitting the table she lay tied too. "Rossignol is not a demon. Please, just listen. Ask him for help and he will come. But don't kill me, don't hurt me. Let me help you."
Instead of abating his anger, Georgia's supplications only renewed his fury. The reluctance he had about killing her faded. To Victor, she was no longer a fallen English gentry, she was no longer a lady worthy of kind words and respect. She was an animal in a slaughterhouse and her death meant his freedom. Victor approached her, causing her to panic. Her bindings still weren't loose enough for her to break free. "You cannot help me, at least, not while you live."
Victor's voice was oddly calm. There was a feeling of tranquility for him; a sense of nobility. He was saving humanity by destroying his creation's mate. He was avenging his loved ones. It would not matter the consequences, Elizabeth would forgive him when she understood why. Victor freed the cleaver from its hook and ignored Georgia's futile, and final hysterical pleas for him to stop. He absently watched as she struggled with her bindings.
"I would prefer," he started, "if you didn't move, I want a clean cut. As a mercy, I only want to strike once. If you move too much I will miss and you will feel all of it. Relax, Georgia. That creature will join you in death soon enough."
"Rossi—" her voice cracked as she screamed in vain. "ROSSIGNOL!" Her lungs burned with her last efforts to get help and free herself. "Oh, God. . . ."
Victor wrapped one hand around the cleaver and lifted it above her. His other hand wound tightly around Georgia's hair close to her scalp. He pulled her head back so that her neck as completely exposed. She struggled, but his grip only became firmer and more resolute. Saliva sputtered from between Georgia's teeth as she used what little strength she had left to save herself. The sharp blade seemed to smile down at its prey. Victor took a deep breath, a silence fell on them, time seemed to freeze. Georgia's heart broke as the cleaver began its fateful descent to end her life.
As she prepared to meet her end a flash of light blinded her. The thunderous sound of the door being ripped off its hinges caused her to wince and cry out. Next to her, she heard the acute thud of the cleaver as it smashed into the table. A furious roar filled the room.
"FRANKENSTEIN!" Screamed a voice so terrible that Georgia became terrified of its owner. "YOU WILL DIE!"
Georgia forced her eyes open to find that a large figure had thrown Victor across the room. Frankenstein lay on the floor clutching at his ribs amidst broken glass, books, and the remains of demolished bookshelf. He spat insults at the advancing giant.
"Rossignol!" Cried Georgia. She had never been so relieved or frightened. "Gabriel!"
The giant stopped and turned to her. He was a horrifying to behold. His rage was animalistic and deranged. His face contorted hideously, snatching the breath from her lungs. But when the furious Rossignol saw the fear and dare he think it, disgust, on her face, he calmed his expression. He pushed the anger away to protect her.
She was tied to a table in her filthy, damp undergarments, the sight kept the burning rage in him alive. It was the blood and the horrid stitching of Victor's attempt to close Georgia's head wound, and the tracks of tears that broke his heart. She was weak and dirty and weeping at her predicament. From her wailing came a supplication for freedom which he rushed to grant.
The creature ripped away the bindings and lifted her into his arms. Georgia clung to him and wept into his ravenous locks. Her body trembled against her wishes.
"My love," she wept. Her sobs became muffled in his embrace. His hands tangled in her hair, he held her close to him.
Rossignol pulled his cloak so that it covered her weak frame. He then lifted her and started towards the broken door frame and towards the horse he had waiting for them.
"You bastard! Elizabeth will not die for you!" Shrieked Victor. He charged at the couple with a knife drawn up. Rossignol quickly dropped Georgia's feet and blocked the attack, shoving Victor back. Victor cried out in pain as he stumbled back, clutching his side.
Rossignol set Georgia on the ground as gently as he could and pulled his cloak off. He quickly covered her trembling body, before rushing back to Victor. Frankenstein weighed nothing to his creation who was able to lift him several feet off the ground. Veins running along Victor's temples burgeoned from the stress and lack of oxygen. As his face went from beet red to ashy purple, he tried to speak.
"You threaten my love, Sir. Why should I spare yours?" Spat Rossignol. His full fury burned up at Victor. He wanted to squeeze the life out of Victor. For once, he hungered for the slaughter he knew he would never regret.
"Gabriel, don't," pleaded Georgia. Her voice was a gentle tidal wave coming into smooth the battered shoreline.
Rossignol felt the tension ease from his body. His grip loosened and he dropped Victor to the floor where he coughed and grasped at his throat.
"I'm sorry, mon per neige," whispered Rossignol. Georgia looked so broken covered in tears and dried blood. Before he ran to her his eyes fell upon Agatha's corpse. Felix and Agatha would have to be avenged and if Eva and her grandfather were still alive, he would see to it that they were well cared for. Although they spurned him, they were his first family and taught him so much about life and family.
The creature bent down to Georgia, tightened his cloak around her and pulled the hood over her head. "I'm sorry, my love. Let us go and save them." He picked her up and took her to the wagon waiting outside. Seeing Georgia bundled up sent Nettie into a frenzy.
Rossignol helped Georgia onto the wagon and instructed Nettie to keep her as dry and warm as possible. He then left the women and returned to the terrible cottage of unimaginable terror. Victor still lay on the floor attempting to catch his breath. He rolled over and stared at the floor before Rossignol grabbed him by the collar of his jacket. "Give me a sheet to cover Agatha." His voice was cold and unflinching.
"I didn't do that to her," gasped Frankenstein. Fury radiated from Rossignol while maddened fear seeped from Victor.
Rossignol released Victor once more, his gazed propelled his father to search quickly. "Elizabeth will die if I don't give Georgia's aunt what she wants." Victor pleaded.
"Father, this all ends tonight." He was in no mood to talk. Once Victor had a sheet, Rossignol snatched the cloth and proceeded to wrap Agatha up. He kissed her forehead before covering her for the last time. With his task completed, Rossignol moved like a ghost to the table Victor had Georgia tied to. The cleaver still sat on the table, waiting for the chance to taste blood. Rossignol reached out and picked it up, he turned to Victor and held it out for him to take. "You know what to do."
"No," Victor hissed. "I won't."
Rossignol advanced him and towered over him. "Moments ago you were willing to murder, an innocent woman— my— my Georgia! Take it and do it." Rossignol grabbed Victor's hand and pressed the handle of the blade to his palm. "Now, do it, sir."
He did not wait for Victor to decide. Instead, he took Agatha's body into his arms and carried her out to the wagon and placed her in the back. When he returned to the abhorrent cottage he found Victor preparing his last gruesome task. Rossignol went around the room taking up candles as he did so. Flames licked the loose papers and books piled together near the back of the cottage. He used his sleeve to wipe away the equations written in chalk before ripping the boards free and casting them into the fire. Before the fire consumed the cottage, Rossignol pulled Victor free and threw him into the back of the wagon. They raced from the burning building as quickly as they could through the cold and muddy road.