Dr. Blake was awakened by the beckoning call of his servant Hectar. His eyes opened immediately, but his body was slow to respond. He lay, fully clothed upon his fine sheets, his arms at his sides. Slowly, he raised his head. Sun poured in through the thin gaps in the curtains. The hour was uncertain and unwelcome. “What is it, Hectar?” he asked irritably.
“Sire, I was to inform you upon the arrival of your sister and niece,” Hectar reminded him.
It was sooner than he expected, given the weather and the travelling conditions. “Very well. Am I to greet them?”
“If you so desire, milord,” Hectar told him amicably. “Sir, might I inquire about the business with the town sheriff last night?” he added reluctantly.
“No, Hectar, there are a great many things you may not inquire about. That affair is one of them.” Stretching himself, Dr. Blake felt for his cane. He was not of the age where he required such a crutch, but it was comforting nevertheless. To him, it was his royal sceptre, and one of the few relics he accepted from his departed sea-faring father.
“Forgive me, sire,” Hectar apologized hastily. “I merely wished to inquire if you needed me to send for Culous and Wing,” he named the two favourite thugs in his generous employ.
“Later in the day, I shall require their particular services,” Dr. Blake mused. “For the moment, I require breakfast. Tell me, in you absent-mindedness, have you thought to care for our guests?”
“But of course, sire,” Hectar responded. “I would not forget to see after such gentlewomen as your own kin. They are quite comfortable, I believe. Your sister has retired to her quarters. As for your niece, she awaits you at the table. Shall I set your clothes?”
“No, these are fine for the moment, but I will require a fresh attire for after I‘ve eaten and bathed,” Dr. Blake looked at himself. He surmised he had scarcely two hours of sleep, and with good cause. Noting his fingers, he found them stained with blood. He rubbed them together until the stain blended in with his own flesh. “This niece of mine… How would you describe her?”
“Quite easy on the eyes, sire, if I do say so myself,” Hectar said with a wink.
“I would rather not think about what you consider attractive, dear Hectar,” Dr. Blake told him.
Not put off by his insults, Hectar continued, “Oh sir, I doubt you would find her disagreeable. She is pale, that is certain, but given the climate she’s accustomed to, I doubt it is a peculiarity.”
“Hmm… Well I suppose I shall have to see for myself,” Dr. Blake surmised. Grunting, he rose from bed. His joints ached, reminding him he was growing older. There was precious little time left in his life, and he was to use it wisely.
Dr. Blake made his way to the dining room, where he found food had already been set. There, at the end of the table, across from where he traditionally sat, was his guest. She was likely the fairest guest he had ever entertained at the burg since having it reconstructed. “Elizabeth?” he inquired.
“Uncle,” she said as she rose and gave a short curtsy.
“Never mind such gestures here,” he told her pleadingly. “I am quite informal. Let me get a look at you.” Drawing nearer, he reached out to embrace her with his arms. Elizabeth was of an age to marry, but still unclaimed. A marvel, considering her good looks and breeding. Either she was picky with her suitors, or else standards were slipping. She was pale as Hectar had mentioned, but he has not encountered such a snowy countenance, although the powder she wore could be thanked for that. She reminded him something of his own mother., but his memory of her was not as it was. Her dark hair was done up in a tight bun, with a few strands coming loose. No doubt the effects of her long journey. Her lips were impeccably small, and painted smaller still. Bags were visible through her think make-up under her eyes, The poor girl was even more tired than he, a less than a third of his age. “Ah, it is good to see family. This countryside is dark indeed. It affects my spirits. I hope your journey was not too troubling?”
“The weather was quite fierce,” she told him in a small voice. She was not diminutive, but her demeanour made her shrink below her height, “but our carriage driver managed the roads without much difficulty.”
“Then it was uneventful save for the weather?” he asked politely. “Please, sit, eat,” he offered, and made his way to his own seat. Hectar held out the chair for him, and he sat to eat. A plate of sausage and greens was revealed to him. He insisted upon his green with every meal.
“Yes, sir, save for one event,” she paused.
“Oh?” he prompted curiously.
“Yes, sir, we became stuck in the mud at one point, and I was worried we may have to continue of foot,” she explained as she picked up her knife as if it was a foreign object. “Our driver tried to free us, but to no avail, but then this imposing figure loomed out of the woods. At first I thought it was a bear, given our location, but no, it was a man all dressed in rags. I’ve never seen any creature so large. I daresay I would not come up to it’s chest., uncle. He gave our carriage one push, and we were on our way. Never spoke a word.”
“A humble spirit, to be sure,” Dr. Blake mused on it. He tried to picture what the man must look like.
“Have you heard of such a man, sir? It wasn’t too far from your burg,” she began to cut at her sausage without really looking at it.
“I’m not as familiar with the locals as I perhaps should be,” Dr. Blake admitted, “but I do believe they make mention of a certain character. He’s more of an imagining that anything else, mind you, but they say he’s a troll who watches over the woods. Not a friendly sort.”
“They make no mention of the Frankenstein Monster, then?” she asked.
Dr. Blake set his fork down. “And what would you know of the Frankenstein Monster, dear niece?” he asked her.
“Precious little, I imagine,” she confessed. “Save for what I read back home. They say he was a monster stitched together from dead men and brought to life with science, or sorcery. He looked rather like this man I just mentioned to you earlier, taller than belief, and strong as an ox.”
“Which is to say what?” Dr. Blake inquired without trying to reveal too much. “Did he looked stitched together? My word, for a gentlewoman like yourself to be speaking of such monsters. I suppose I have your mother to blame for that.”
“I saw what I saw, uncle,” she told him curtly. “A man covered in scars from wounds too terrible for any human to endure.”
“Just what are you driving at, dear?” Dr. Blake said carefully. “Was this the Frankenstein?”
“Isn’t he what brings us here? Were you not trying to fill the late doctor’s boots?” she asked him. Whatever meagreness he had gathered about her persona had vanished, and was replaced with something quite fierce.
“That’s an ugly rumour, to be certain,” he laughed it away.
“Come off of it, uncle,” his niece told him. “I’ve just met you, but I know you. You’re as mad as my own grandfather, your father. Only your obsession is with life after death, rather than the sea. You came here chasing the Frankenstein. I’m telling you I saw it.”
“So tell me more,” Dr. Blake insisted. “In detail. What did he look like?”
“As I said, he was covered in scars and burns, so you could not tell the colour of his skin. His clothes were much the same. He was built large, but built wrong. That very wrongness permeated his whole demeanour. He sounded every bit the monster, like something exhumed and ill pleased by it. More than that I cannot say,” she said.
“A brief description for such a supposedly large man,” Dr. Blake scoffed. “Did you not get a better look than that?”
“I did not, nor would you. Such a thing is not to be looked at for overly long,” she explained.
“You would be surprised by what I spend my hours looking at,” he smiled coldly at her. “For a man who offered you his help, you have much ill to say about it.”
“I’m telling you what I saw,” she insisted. “Do with it what you will. What I required, however, is for you to tend to my dear, departed father.”
The silence was long and laden. “So your mother told you,” he said at last.
“She did indeed. Did you expect her to find an adequate lie for why we were transporting my father’s earthly remains to a country he never visited, nor cared to?” she asked him.
“I make no promises,” Dr. Blake assured her. “My successes can scarcely be called that. If you want your father to live once more, I can give you that. If you want your father back as you knew him: this I cannot yet achieve. All I can promise is that I shall do my best, but not in haste.”
“Do more,” she told him. “Much more.”
“You,” Dr. Blake gestured his knife at her pointedly. “You, I like. Why has you mother hidden you from me for so long? Why is it only at this late hour that I am introduced to such a niece?”
“Perhaps it is because you trade in death,” she offered.
“But not despair,” he was quick to add. “Never despair. That is not my goal. Your talk of the Frankenstein warrants inspection. I shall have my men intervene, but I do believe that any bold action shall cause my undoing. I was visited last night by the sheriff, who himself had encountered my Frankenstein. Or one of them, at least. He will want to investigate further. All roads will lead him to me. I have taken care of many like him, but he will draw undue attention. I shall meet with the late Dr. Frankenstein’s fate if I am not careful.”
“Just what have you been able to accomplish?” she asked curiously.
“If you wish to see, I suggest you forego the rest of your breakfast. You shan’t be wanting it where you go,” he smiled.
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