And it did. He wandered cautiously into the hall with a curious look upon his face. I raced toward him with every intention of throttling the truth from him regarding Johanna and Friedrich Hoffmann, but as I neared him I dropped to my knees, helpless. With my head bowed I told him in a guttural whisper that I was there to kill him.
“H-How is this possible?” he asked, his voice excited with fear. “How is it that you can talk?”
I groaned miserably at my situation. Here he was, my most detested enemy, less than an arm’s length away and I was powerless to grab hold of him. I could not understand this.
“Why wouldn’t I be able to talk?” I growled futilely at him.
My stare lowered to the marble floor. It took a great effort for me to look at him, and all I felt was shame as I saw that he had recovered sufficiently from his fright and now showed only that haughtiness that I despised so greatly.
“You shouldn’t be able to talk, at least not this fluently, for you have barely the brain of a one-year old.”
I laughed at that, but stopped abruptly as I saw a cruel, calculating glimmer in his eyes.
“Why is it that you wish to murder me, my pet?” he demanded, his voice soft but snapping at me as if a whip.
“Because I suspect you of murdering my betrothed, Johanna Klemmen, and arranging for me to be accused and executed for that crime. All so that you could gain access to the brain of an educated man.”
His eyes widened and his sickly white skin drained of whatever color it possessed. For several long moments he seemed incapable of speech. When he was able to find his voice again, he asked me who I thought I was.
I cast my eyes down again and told him that I was once Friedrich Hoffmann.
“This is remarkable, truly remarkable,” he muttered excitedly. “I never would have dreamed that you would possess your past intelligence. My most wondrous creation, I could not possibly express to you how exciting this development is, or how surprised I was to see you in such attire, or to be speaking such to me. How about your memories? How much do you remember from your past life?”
I forced myself to look up and meet his eyes. “I remember,” I said. “I remember that a villain slipped a poison into my ale at the beer hall so that I collapsed unconscious in an alley. I remember the next morning how I was awoken by a mob, and that my beloved Johanna’s locket had been placed on my person so that I would be accused of her murder. I remember my execution, every blow that the executioner made. I remember them in detail so that I may return the favor someday.”
Frankenstein stood stroking his chin, a sly look slowly forming in his eyes. “You are right of course about my using Friedrich Hoffmann’s brain as material in constructing you,” he said at last. “But I believe you are being unfair with your other accusations. You could not possibly have any supporting evidence to accuse me of these deeds. Is it not reasonable that I only took advantage of your execution to gain access to the material that I sought? Could not my involvement consist simply of bribing the executioner for your body so that it would not go needlessly to waste, and that I had nothing to do with the events which led to your being accused and convicted of this woman’s murder?”
“Are you saying that you are innocent of my charges?”
He pursed his lips as he studied me. “I am not saying one way or the other,” he replied mockingly, “for I do not have to. But I am curious why you believe me guilty of these deeds.”
I looked away from him and pressed my lips firmly together so that I could avoid answering him.
“Answer me, my pet.”
I tried, but I could not keep from answering him. It was as if I were being compelled by some unknown power to speak, just as I had been compelled to travel to this cursed place.
“I know how you murdered Charlotte,” I said. A feeling of utter disgust welled within me for betraying Charlotte, but I was incapable of resisting Frankenstein no matter how hard I tried to keep my lips pressed together.
He raised an eyebrow at that. “Who is Charlotte?”
“You call her Sophie.”
He trembled with excitement as he asked me why I believed he murdered his Sophie.
“You had her drugged. She was murdered as she lay unconscious, and her head removed from her body.”
“I did this?”
“You hired a villain to do this deed for you.”
“Is it not possible that I instead hired someone to procure me the material that I sought, believing that it would come from a dead body, and that I had no knowledge of this crime of which you speak? But never mind. How do you know this?”
I struggled to keep from telling him, but it was useless. “Charlotte told me.” I heard myself saying this as if the words had come from someone else entirely.
“She has intelligence? Is that what you are telling me? That she is capable of conversing? Oh, my dear pet, this is absolutely delightful. And it explains so much, especially why you tried to hide your improvement from me back within my laboratory. I had wondered often about that. What exactly did she say to you to make you act that way?”
“She warned me to hide my intelligence from you.”
“How did the two of you converse? She has no larynx, so speech is not possible for her.”
“We silently mouthed our words to each other.”
Frankenstein’s eyes shone with malevolence as he contemplated this. Soon he could barely contain his grin. Others had slipped into the hall, and Frankenstein ordered one of them to retrieve Sophie for him.
“How is it that you control me?” I asked.
Victor Frankenstein cast me a disdainful look. He was anxious for Charlotte to be brought to him, and he was consumed with his thoughts on that and did not care for my interruption, but he answered me anyway, telling me that it was due to the nightly rituals he performed on me.
“Not only did these rituals raise you from the dead, but it made you my obedient slave, and you should be showing me more gratitude than you have been. Enough of this! And stand up already. I do not wish to have you kneeling by my feet. Not now, anyway.”
I got back onto my feet. As I stood I towered over Frankenstein. I had the strength to crush him, but I was incapable of it. As much as I longed to reach for his throat so that I could squeeze the life out of him, I was helpless to act on my desires. He seemed to sense my thoughts and flashed me an annoyed look, but did not bother saying anything to me about it.
Charlotte was brought into the hall. She still rested in the same bowl that she had been in before, with several inches of milky liquid filling the bottom of it. At first her face showed the mask of imbecility that she used to hide her intelligence from Frankenstein, but as she saw me, first surprise and then alarm flashed in her eyes. I mouthed the words I am sorry to her.
Frankenstein took her and stroked her scalp, all the while staring at her mockingly. Charlotte looked even more frail than last I had seen her, her eyes more deeply hollowed and her skin appearing as if it were dried parchment paper. She tried to keep up her pretense, but she knew something was wrong and soon her expression showed her terror.
Frankenstein raised her so that she could clearly see his lips.
“My dear Sophie,” he said, mouthing his words slowly. “You could not believe my surprise in learning what a devious creature you are, pretending as if you were nothing but an imbecilic novelty, when in fact you hold true intelligence. I am disappointed in you after all the hours in which I have petted you and let you suckle on my finger. The question I have for you, my dear Sophie, is why did you act in such an ungrateful manner? But first, answer me, are you capable of hearing words or only reading lips?”