“A primitive burial rite?” Father asked.
The professor shook his head. “Resurrection.”
“Ah,” said Father, and he turned and looked directly at me.
I held his gaze as long as I thought natural. “Fascinating,” I said, and lifted my glass and drank. My confidence returned.
He can suspect nothing, I thought.
What we are doing is beyond belief.
* * *
After dinner I put on a coat and walked out along the dock. One of our rowboats was tied up alongside, and I stepped into it and stretched out to watch the sunset fade and the first stars appear. It had always been a favorite thing of ours, Konrad and me.
My mind sped me away from the château and up into the sky’s vault. I used to imagine greatness for myself, but now I no longer needed to imagine it. With the spirit butterflies upon me, it was within my grasp. There was no knowledge that would remain hidden from me. All I’d ever desired would be mine. I would have Konrad. I would have Elizabeth. And more.
Planks creaked, and I turned to see Elizabeth walking out along the dock, reading something. It was quite dark by now, and she went right past without noticing me, so engrossed was she in the piece of paper. As she made her way slowly to the dock’s end, she read aloud. Her voice was low, almost hesitant, as if afraid of revealing too much:
“She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes.”
“Very pretty,” I remarked, sitting up in the boat.
She gave a small gasp as she turned, and guiltily began folding up the paper.
“Why do you put it away?” I said, stepping onto the dock. “Read on!”
“I—” She faltered, and then her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing, lurking out here?”
“I didn’t realize Henry was writing you little rhymes now.”
“Don’t be absurd. Henry and I just critique each other’s work.”
“No. It was written for you. About you.”
I knew this with absolute certainty. Those few simple lines had captured her. But as jealous anger began to pump through my veins, I wondered how Henry could know her so well. Yes, he’d been her childhood friend for nearly a decade, but I’d thought only I comprehended her dark and light. And all along there was wispy Henry Clerval, observing and loving her from afar with his ink-stained thoughts.
“It would be presumptuous to think it was written about me,” Elizabeth said primly.
“Oh, please. He’s completely smitten. He’s wooing you. Let me read the rest!”
She clasped the parchment protectively within both hands.
“That good, is it?” I asked sarcastically.
“It’s extremely accomplished.”
“Meaning ‘romantic.’” Damn Henry! His skill with a pen was immense. Just this past summer I’d asked him to write some words for me. How stupid of me not to realize he’d eventually start using them himself. And I knew how much Elizabeth valued poetics. I’d racked my mind earlier, urging its new sharpness to concoct some romantic phrases, but nothing had come. Matters of the heart, it seemed, would always elude me.
“I never thought Henry such a scoundrel.”
She laughed. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
“Well, he can hardly be blamed,” I said. “After all the encouragement you’ve given him.”
“When have I encouraged him?” she demanded angrily.
“Oh, not in this world maybe, but in the other, when you danced with him. You’re a veritable temptress.”
“If you were closer, I’d slap you,” she said.
“Let me help,” I replied, and stepped closer. She promptly slapped me, which surprised me only a little.
We glared at each other in the near dark, and then she looked away.
“I’m sorry I slapped you,” she said.
“That’s all right. I quite enjoyed it.”
“I know how I behaved that night. That’s why I needed to go back alone, to make sure I hadn’t hurt Konrad.” She gave a bitter laugh. “Of course, it seems it’s his affections that have strayed.”
“No, no. I’m sure that’s not the case,” I said halfheartedly.
“So why shouldn’t I let my affections stray?” she said with a flare of defiance.
To this I made no reply.
She turned away with a sad shake of her head. “The truth is, when I read Henry’s poem, it’s not Henry I think of.”
“Poor Henry,” I murmured. Not even his beautiful words could help him. “He seems emboldened, though. He genuinely thinks he has a chance at winning you. If you let him write you poetry, you’ll only hurt him.”
“I suppose I miss being admired,” she said.
“I admire you,” I told her impetuously. “And I wish I could write you romantic things.”
There was silence, and I regretted my words. She turned round to face me. “You don’t love me, Victor,” she said gently. “You fool yourself.”
“Don’t tell me what I feel.”
“To you I could only be a possession, another thing to be mastered.”
“That isn’t so,” I objected. “I may not be able to pen you pretty verses. And I’ll never be as reliable and kind and graceful as Konrad. I’m not perfect. But neither are you, and I love you all the more for it. You’re willful, and you have appetites bigger than you care to admit. But you’re beautiful and intelligent, and I can’t think of anything on this entire earth I more desire.”
She was looking at me the whole time I spoke. A small swell from the lake made the dock tilt, and we both took a step closer. It was almost dark now, and I remembered how once, in total darkness, I’d tricked her into thinking I was Konrad and stolen a kiss. But right now she knew exactly who stood before her, and I was certain that if I bent my head to hers, I would not be stealing.
“I want you to be mine,” I said.
“I will be yours,” she whispered.
I knew I’d never hear four more thrilling words my whole life. My body was alight as I leaned toward her mouth.
“But first,” she said, gently drawing back, “you must make me a promise. Promise me you’ll have nothing more to do with the spirit world. Rid yourself of the spirit butterfly. And never go back, except to return with Konrad. Do that for me, Victor, and I’ll be yours.”
She stood before me, unutterably beautiful, patiently awaiting my reply.
“Why is it necessary to make such a choice?” I demanded.
“If you love me so much, it should be an easy one.”
“I can’t make that promise.”
A sigh escaped her parted lips, and she shook her head, as if rousing herself from a daydream. She laughed softly, almost ruefully.
“Victor, I believe there is something on this earth you desire more than anything, and it isn’t me.”
CHAPTER 13
SLOWLY WAKING
A COLORFUL BUTTERFLY RESTS UPON MY TEMPLE, A SECOND ON my hand. Knowledge flows into me in an unstoppable torrent. I am unquenchable.
In the spirit world library I sit amidst piles of books, mastering their secrets one after the other. I’ve slowed the spectral clock to an occasional meek tick. Perhaps I’ll never be a poet or lover, but here, I am an engineer, an explorer, an architect of wonders.
An intricate passage on metallurgy stops me. I read it once more, but not because I don’t understand it. Quite the opposite. I understand it perfectly, and a huge excitement builds within me. I stand abruptly, open the secret passage, and hurry down the steps to the Dark Library.
Inside I swiftly scan the shelves and find the slim green volume of alchemy by Eisenstein. It takes me only moments to locate the right page. My eyes sweep the text, my spirit heart skips a beat, and I smile.
“Victor?”
From the top of the stairs comes Konrad’s voice.
“Yes,” I call
back.
“How long have you been down here?” he says when he enters the Dark Library. He looks hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”
“I was just on my way to find you,” I say guiltily, for I realize I’ve completely forgotten about him. But almost at once I resent feeling guilty. In a matter of days he’ll live again—my doing!—and in the meantime there’s so much to learn. “There was something I needed to check.”
“Down here?” Konrad asks.
“Catch!” I toss the green book in his direction. “Recognize it?”
He glances at the spine and starts paging through it. “Didn’t you use this to make the flameless fire?”
I nod. Last summer, during one of our adventures, we’d had to descend in a perilous cave system, and this particular tome had given me a recipe for a waterproof substance that burned without fire. The flameless fire had saved our lives.
“But it contains an even more beguiling recipe,” I say. “Keep turning.”
I know from his surprised frown when he’s found the right page.
“Is this Father’s writing in the margin?”
“He tried to turn lead into gold, one of the oldest alchemical quests of all.”
“Father dabbled in alchemy,” Konrad says in amazement. “More than dabbled, by the looks of it.”
“But he didn’t succeed.”
Konrad looks up. “How do you know all this?”
“I confronted him. I thought, since he’d used alchemy, he might help us complete the Elixir of Life. I was wrong.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me this?” Konrad asks.
“He asked me never to tell another living soul.” I can’t help smiling. “And I’m keeping my word to him. He was a young man when he did it; he was facing financial ruin. So he made a substance that resembled gold, and managed to sell it in foreign parts.”
“I wish you’d not told me this.”
“It’s the truth. You should know.”
“So why’s this little book so important, then,” he asks, “if it contains gibberish like this?”
“It is gibberish. Riddled with fancies and mistakes. But I know how to fix them. Upstairs I was reading modern metallurgy and chemistry, and look—”
I hurry to a table, take up some paper and a quill, and begin scrawling out numbers and symbols, my thoughts assembling themselves so quickly that my hand can scarcely keep up.
“If you combine alchemical aspiration with the rigor of modern science, miraculous things are possible.”
When I finish, I slide the paper down the table to Konrad. He takes it up and shakes his head in wonderment. “This makes no sense to me, Victor.”
“This formula,” I tell him, “will make us gold!”
“How can you be so sure?”
“The butterfly spirits have thrown open the treasure vaults. Things that would’ve taken me weeks or months to learn, I absorb almost instantly with their help. And not just inside the spirit world. Outside, too.”
“You’ve taken them outside?” he asks in alarm.
I nod. “They’ve healed the pain in my hand, quickened my mind, given me boundless energy. There’s one waiting for you when you return to us.”
He says nothing.
“Trust me. Once it’s on your body, you’ll have no reservations. Didn’t we always talk about having adventures? Imagine what we can do together, the places we’ll go! We’ll never fear being poor, like Father did. But gold’s just the beginning. With these spirits aiding us, we don’t need to fear even death. The entire world will be our dominion.”
“You talk as if we’re a nation going to war,” he says uneasily. “You’re too passionate for your own good sometimes.” His eyes actually meet mine and hold their gaze. “Your light’s not as bright as it used to be,” he says, and then adds wonderingly, “and your heat’s less intense too.”
I shrug. “You’re just getting used to them, maybe.”
“Are you sure you feel well?”
“Don’t worry about me,” I tell him firmly.
From the depths of the château comes a terrible gagging cry. Konrad’s body tenses.
“That’s a new sound,” I murmur.
“Yes, and they come more often,” my brother replies anxiously. “I can’t help worrying that it’s…”
“Escaping?” I shake my head. “From all that stone? I don’t think so.”
Konrad nods, unconvinced, and I feel a rush of pity for him. I’m awash in power, and he is so helpless.
“Look, let me go and check,” I say. “I’ll come back and tell you.”
“Find me in the armory,” he says. “Practice helps clear my mind. Be careful, Victor.”
I set off, eager to calm my brother’s worries but also impelled by the familiar curiosity. I want to gaze upon this thing again.
I check my spirit clock to make sure I have time, and then climb down into the caverns and run, streaking through the animal galleries. I pass the giant painted man and start down the steep passage to the burial chamber. At the pit’s edge I peer down, and swallow back my surprise.
The huge mass at the bottom now looks less like stone than a cocoon made of dense fibrous material. As I stare, the entire thing shudders. Beneath the surface I see a faint, confusing shadow. A segment of the gray cocoon bulges outward, revealing the shape of a hand—but a hand with fingers longer and larger than any normal hand. A heartrending wail blasts past me, sounding like a creature enduring unspeakable torture.
It has changed. There’s no denying it. What was once stone has now softened. And whatever’s inside seems more awake.
Suddenly from its surface a strange dark shoot erupts. As I watch in silent awe, it unfurls like some supernatural plant to a height of several inches. Then it thickens and becomes fleshier, almost like a pustule.
Within seconds it bursts, releasing a black butterfly. Timidly it circles about, slowly but surely rising with each stroke of its fledgling wings. In amazement I stare, my excitement mounting with every beat of my heart.
I have discovered their source.
* * *
I find Konrad in the armory, practicing his lunges against a dummy. For a moment I watch as his unbated saber savagely pierces the dummy’s shoulder, its gut, its heart.
“There won’t be anything left of him before long,” I say.
He turns, tries to grin, and then just looks at me expectantly.
“It’s a little changed. Not much,” I say.
“You’re lying. I know you too well, Victor.”
“The stone doesn’t seem quite as… thick,” I admit.
He paces, restlessly swiping his saber back and forth.
“My new body, is it all right?” he asks.
“Of course. It’s growing quickly.”
“How long till it’s ready?” he demands.
I’ve seen fear in him before now, but this is desperation, crackling in his voice.
“Three nights.”
“Who’s to say that thing won’t get free before then?”
“I can’t see how—”
“I want to kill it, Victor!” He strides over to the racks of weaponry and pulls down a crossbow and a leather quiver of bolts.
“How do you know you can kill it?” I ask.
Frantically he pulls down a halberd, a long sword, a shield. “I don’t know if I have the power. But you do.” He looks at me, a child’s need for reassurance etched across his features. “You killed that evil spirit when it was strangling Analiese. You can kill this. Kill it for me, Victor.”
My heart aches. “I can’t,” I say.
“Of course you can. You’re the living. You have light and heat and—”
I stammer out an excuse. “I—I don’t think it deserves to be killed. I couldn’t do it.”
I refuse to do it.
But I don’t tell him this. That creature in the pit, whatever it is, is birthing butterflies, and I crave the power they give me.
“Th
en, I’ll do it myself,” Konrad says, shouldering a crossbow and heading for the doorway.
“I can’t let you do that,” I say, blocking his path with my light and heat. “It’s not safe.”
He winces. “Stand aside, Victor.”
From down the corridor comes the sound of Elizabeth’s worried voice. “Konrad, are you there?”
“I’m here!” he calls out, and we both move back in surprise as she bursts into the armory.
“What are you doing here?” I demand. “Did you break into my room?”
“No. I’m in my own.”
“Then, how did you get the elixir?” I ask.
“I thought to take a small vial for myself the last time,” she says, unable to hide her pleasure at my shock. “Why should you have the only supply?”
“But you came in without the spirit clock,” I tell her. “What if I hadn’t been inside? Do you have any idea how reckless that was?”
“Since when has recklessness bothered you, Victor?”
“You might’ve lost track of time and let your body die!”
“I only mean to stay a short time,” she says defensively, “though it took me long enough to find you, Konrad.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks, looking more worried than ever. “Is something the matter with my body?”
“No, no, you’re fine. Is Analiese around?” Elizabeth asks in a lowered voice.
“I don’t know where she is,” Konrad replies. “Why?”
“After all that talk of making a body for her,” Elizabeth says, “I decided to find out a little more about her. It turns out there are household accounts of every servant employed here, going back a hundred years.”
“Where did you find those?” I ask in amazement.
“Maria’s office. I crept in about an hour ago.”
“And?” Konrad says.
“There’s no record of any young woman called Analiese who worked here and died of fever in the house.”
My brother is silent for a moment. “Well, someone made an error and left her out.”
“The records seem very thorough,” Elizabeth says.
Konrad frowns. “You’re suggesting she doesn’t exist?”
I’m not sure I’ve ever heard him speak so irritably to Elizabeth.
“She’s not who she says she is!” Elizabeth says.