This Dark Endeavour (with Bonus Material) (14 page)

But instead I heard her sit down with a contented sigh and start whistling. I frowned. What was she doing? Then I heard her pouring a cup of tea, and the clink of china as she sipped at it! We were a liberal household, but still, this was taking things a bit far!

“Are you going to lie there all day, you lazy carcass?” she asked.

Except that it wasn’t a she. It was a he, and I knew the voice as well as my own.

I tore my curtains aside and stared.

Wearing a white nightshirt, my twin sat calmly in the dappled morning sunlight, sipping my tea.

“Konrad!” I exclaimed, and then felt dizzy and feared I was only dreaming. “Konrad?”

“Good heavens, Victor,” he said. “You’d think you’d seen a ghost!”

He smiled, and suddenly the fearful spell was broken. I leapt off the bed and ran to him. He stood to meet me, and we threw our arms about each other.

“You are all better?” I cried.

“Much improved, anyway,” he said.

Beneath his nightshirt I felt his bones. I pulled back to look at him. His face was still drawn, but his skin no longer had that papery look, and in his cheeks was a hint of colour.

“Your fever is gone,” I said.

He nodded. “The good doctor’s medicine seems to be working.”

For a moment, just the smallest of moments, a curious thought swirled through my mind.
I
was meant to be the one to heal him, to put the Elixir of Life to his lips and watch as the colour and vigour rushed back into his body.

But then I was overcome with shame for such a petty thought, and was once more flooded with relief and sheer joy.

“Do Mother and Father know?” I asked.

“Not yet. I wanted to see you first.”

“Let’s go tell everyone!” I said. “Right away!”

It was indescribably wonderful to have Konrad at our table for meals, to see him dressed and walking about, to hear his laughter.

He was much thinner, and weak still, but he had a good appetite, and in no time at all, I was sure, he would be his old self again.

Every day for several hours he would need to return to his bed so that he could be pricked with Dr. Murnau’s needle and have more medicine dripped into his veins. Dr. Murnau said he had to get a good deal of rest and not overexert himself.

For now it was like Christmas and everyone’s birthday combined. Mother and Father seemed suddenly younger, Elizabeth’s smile dimmed the sunshine, William and Ernest were giddy with excitement, and the servants fixed every single one of Konrad’s favourite dishes.

In another two days Konrad’s treatment was finished.

Dr. Murnau was greatly pleased with my brother’s progress and made arrangements to return in three months to check on him again.

I helped the doctor pack up his laboratory. His glassware and apparatus reminded me of Mr. Polidori’s, and I still wondered how different these two men were.

But I felt foolish. I’d had such grand thoughts of helping create a fantastical elixir of life. But Dr. Murnau had been methodical and scientific, and he had succeeded. As usual it seemed Father was right, and all these old books were nothing but nonsense.

“You have the fire of curiosity in you,” Dr. Murnau said to me as I finished replacing the last of the flasks in their velvet casings. “Do you have an interest in the natural sciences?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I believe I may.”

“Ingolstadt has a very fine university,” said the doctor. “We are always glad of keen students who can help advance our learning in chemistry and biology. Perhaps one day I will see you there.”

“Perhaps,” I said.

He offered me his hand. “Good luck to you, young Victor.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said.

The day was warm and beautiful, and Father had cancelled our morning lessons and ordered us to go out of doors and enjoy ourselves. Mother told us not to go far. We did not want to worry her—she had been through enough already—so we promised her we would stay within sight of the chateau at all times.

Moments after our boat had sailed clear of the dock, Konrad looked at Elizabeth and Henry and me, and said:

“You three have been having an adventure, I think.”

We glanced at one another, and laughed.

“You lucky wretches!” Konrad said. “Tell me everything.”

We enjoyed taking turns telling Konrad of our adventures: our secret visit to the Dark Library, the burned book of Agrippa, and Paracelsus’s mysterious Alphabet of the Magi. We told him of Julius Polidori and his pet lynx, Krake.

“You’re not inventing this!” Konrad broke in more than once, looking from Henry to Elizabeth, then to me, in bewilderment. “It seems the stuff of an overheated imagination!”

“It is all true!” I told him, laughing, and then described our
nighttime escapade in the Sturmwald, the vision of the wolf, and our climb into the tallest tree during the tempest.

“You climbed the tree?” he asked Elizabeth in amazement.

“I did,” she said.

Konrad looked at me and Henry severely. “Honestly, you two, what were you thinking? She might have come to harm.”

Elizabeth’s eyes sparked. “I’m quite capable of taking care of myself, Konrad, I can assure you.”

“She bit a bearded vulture on the throat,” I added.

Konrad’s face flinched in revulsion. “You what?”

“You needn’t have told him that bit,” Elizabeth said, frowning at me.

“Well, it was very impressive,” I said defensively. “I was very impressed.”

Konrad looked astonished, so we hurried on and told him of our battle with the three Lammergeier, and how Krake had come to our rescue.

“No one could’ve invented this,” said Konrad. “I believe it entirely!”

“It seems almost unreal now,” said Elizabeth. She looked at me briefly, awkwardly, and I wondered if she was remembering how we’d gazed at each other hungrily with our wolves’ eyes. My own feelings for her in the Sturmwald had been so powerful they made me blush now, and I looked away to check the trim of our mainsail.

“Anyway,” Elizabeth said gaily, “it is over now. There’s no point continuing, since the brilliant Dr. Murnau has put things to right.”

I watched Konrad’s face carefully as she said this, and suddenly my heart was like a fist, tightening in my chest.

“What is it?” I asked him quietly.

“Mother doesn’t know,” said Konrad, “and you must not tell her. Father doesn’t think she could bear it.”

“What?” said Elizabeth in alarm. “What must she bear?”

“It is not necessarily a cure,” said Konrad.

“But look at you!” said Henry. “As fit as ever!”

“Dr. Murnau said it might come back.” I saw my brother’s eyes go to Elizabeth. “He has seen other cases where it has returned.”

Henry gave a cheery chuckle. “Well, then, another dose of Dr. Murnau’s famous elixir should be all you need, surely.”

“He would not want to administer it again for quite some time,” Konrad said. “Another dose too soon could be fatal.”

“You assume the worst,” Elizabeth said firmly, though she looked pale. “He said your illness might come back.
Might.
”

Konrad smiled, but it was the kind of smile a father gives children when trying to reassure them.

“Let’s come about,” I said, and pushed the tiller. The boom swung overhead and Konrad adjusted the foresail to our new course.

“Father should tell Mother,” said Elizabeth, sounding annoyed. “It is wrong of him to keep it from her.”

“You’re not to say anything,” said Konrad.

“Of course she can
bear
it. She’s very strong. Just because she’s a woman, he needn’t treat her like a child.”

“I agree,” I said.

Konrad sighed. “He’s doing her a kindness. He wants to spare her worry—most likely unnecessary worry.”

I did not feel so kindly toward Dr. Murnau anymore. A doctor cured people. If a cure was not certain, was it any cure
at all? For a while we said nothing, our boat skimming over the water. I watched Konrad and knew exactly what he was thinking.

“But I do believe,” he said finally, “it might be a good idea to continue seeking out the Elixir of Life.”

Elizabeth and Henry stared in astonishment. But I felt no surprise. I knew him as myself, and I would have made the same decision.

“Just in case,” Konrad added.

“Absolutely,” I agreed.

Henry looked decidedly queasy. “But we have only one of the three ingredients, and that was hard enough.”

“Henry was quite sick with worry while we were up in the tree,” I remarked wryly.

“You have no idea what it was like,” he protested. “You two were up there with your crazy wolf eyes, and I had to keep my wits about me down on the ground and try to make sure you didn’t get struck by lightning or eaten alive by a wildcat …”

“You did a good job stopping him, by the way,” I quipped.

“It was hardest on you, really,” Elizabeth agreed, and bit her lip so she wouldn’t giggle.

“Oh, go ahead, have a good laugh,” Henry said. “You should be grateful that at least one of us has some common sense.”

“It won’t be so bad, Henry,” Konrad said, giving him a wink. “Now that I am well, I can help find the remaining ingredients.”

The next day I came upon them in the music room.

The sound of the pianoforte had lured me there. I knew from
the song that it was Elizabeth at the keys. The door was ajar. Silent and unnoticed, I watched them. Konrad stood beside her, turning pages. As she played, he touched a stray strand of her curly hair and tucked it behind her ear, and let his hand linger on her cheek for three, four, five beats of my pounding heart. There was such tenderness on his face.

Elizabeth smiled, and the colour in her cheeks darkened to a blush. She stumbled over the notes, then lifted her hands from the keys and said something to Konrad in a low voice I could not hear.

I retreated a few steps, steeled myself, and then came whistling down the corridor before I entered the room. I pretended not to notice their surprised and embarrassed faces.

“Father is going into town tomorrow,” I said. “We can go with him and see Polidori.”

“Excellent,” said Konrad. “I’m looking forward to meeting this fellow—and his lynx.”

“You cannot come,” I said.

Konrad chuckled. “Why not?”

“Polidori does not know who we are,” I explained. “But if he sees the two of us, he may suspect. Most people in Geneva know Alphonse Frankenstein has twin sons. It is uncommon.”

Konrad shrugged carelessly. “So what if he does?”

I shook my head in irritation. “Konrad, don’t you remember? It was our father who tried him. Who ordered him never to practise alchemy again! If Polidori knows who we are, he will want nothing more to do with us.”

“Even so,” said my brother thoughtfully, “surely we have the advantage. He knows we can report him to Father if he refuses to help us.”

“That is not a game I think we should play,” I said.

“Victor is right,” Elizabeth said, and I looked at her, pleased. “We cannot risk it, Konrad. We must keep our identities secret.”

Konrad sniffed and looked so disappointed I almost felt sorry for him.

“It is for your own sake, you oaf,” Elizabeth said, more tenderly than I liked.

“Yes, I can see that now,” he said. “You are clear-headed, Victor. Thank you.”

I said nothing. I could not accept his thanks with a pure heart, for I had another, selfish reason for keeping him from Polidori. The quest for the Elixir of Life had been my idea. I was in charge, and I wanted to keep it so. I wanted to be the one to shine. If Konrad walked into Polidori’s laboratory, I feared we would be recognized, yes—but even more, I feared he would take command of our venture. With his natural charm and his keen, calm intelligence, it might happen in a heartbeat. And I would not stand for it.

“Good, then,” I said. “We will proceed as before.” I clapped Konrad heartily on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. There will be plenty of adventure for you yet.”

They love each other.

I’d never felt so foolish—or so betrayed. Konrad and I had never kept secrets, but he’d clutched this greedily to himself. For how long? I wondered. Why hadn’t he told me?

And how was it I hadn’t noticed, when I so often knew
exactly
what he was thinking?

It was as though, in one moment, he had become a stranger.

And I a stranger to myself.

All my life I had wanted things: to be the smartest, and the swiftest and strongest. I’d dreamed of fame and wealth.

But looking upon Elizabeth’s face, I suddenly knew there was something I wanted even more.

It took seeing them together for me to properly understand my own feelings. A lightning bolt could not have been more sudden. Watching Konrad touch her, it was like seeing myself touch her.

In the Sturmwald I had tried to ignore my feelings, told myself they were merely effects of the potion.

I am in love with Elizabeth.

“I
wondered what had become of you,” Polidori said the following morning, as he led us into his parlour. “Your brother, how does he fare?”

“He is much improved,” I said.

I myself felt wretched. It had taken me forever to get to sleep, my mind twisting back again and again to Konrad and Elizabeth at the pianoforte. Konrad touching her. The heat in her cheeks. At dawn when I’d dragged myself out of bed, I felt positively battered.

“Well, that is excellent news about your brother,” Polidori said. He turned in his wheelchair and smiled. “Do you wish to abandon this enterprise, then?”

His expression was calm, patient, but I noticed that Krake seemed to be watching me with great intensity.

“No,” said Elizabeth. “We wish very much to continue.”

“You are sure?” Polidori asked.

I nodded. “The doctor said the illness might return.”

“I see. I am very sorry to hear it.”

“You received the lichen, I trust,” said Henry.

“Indeed. Before sunrise on the very morning.”

“Is it enough?” Elizabeth asked worriedly.

“It is perfectly ample. As for the second ingredient, the translation has proved devilishly difficult. But last night I cracked it. Come.”