This Dark Endeavour (with Bonus Material) (27 page)

He launched his chair at me with such force that he knocked me over. I landed on my wounded hand and howled with pain.

From the corner of my eye I saw him raise his cane over me like an executioner’s axe. I rolled out of the way just as the clubbed head cracked down upon the flagstone. Polidori swivelled expertly to face me, cane raised once more.

I scrabbled away crablike, pain shooting up my right arm. His chair struck me again, sending me sprawling. Wig askew, he glowered over me. He had me backed against a wall, and even as I lifted my arm to ward off the blow, I knew it was futile. That club would shatter my bones.

A poker struck Polidori on the shoulder so hard that he
dropped his cane with a yowl. I looked over and saw Elizabeth gripping the weapon.

“Hit him again!” I shouted.

“He’s in a wheelchair!” Elizabeth cried.

“He means to kill us!”

I lunged to the side and tried to snatch up Polidori’s devilish cane, but from the bottom of his chair, from all sides, sprang long wickedly sharp blades. One very nearly impaled my leg as I leapt up onto a worktable, sending glassware shattering.

“Look out!” I shouted to Elizabeth. “His chair’s spiked!”

Polidori snatched up his cane and turned on Elizabeth. He was a demon in his chair, riding it like a malevolent barbed steed, driving her into a corner.

From the table I grasped a heavy flask full of vile-smelling liquid and hurled it at Polidori. It shattered against his skull. Instantly his wig began to smoke and melt, releasing acrid vapours. He gave a cry and ripped the wig from his head. On his bald scalp a few red welts were already blooming.

Cursing, he swerved away from Elizabeth and launched himself toward the sink. It gave her the chance to run clear, and together we rushed to Henry, still sprawled on the ground, though moaning now. Alive! I shook him roughly.

“Henry, get up! Get up!”

His eyes opened blearily. I looked around in a frenzy and saw Polidori with his head bent under the water pump, trying to flush the acid from his flesh.

“We must go!” said Elizabeth, helping me pull Henry to his feet. “The elevator!”

“Not without the elixir!” I said.

I snatched the poker from Elizabeth and ran toward Polidori.

Before I reached him, he whirled his chair round to confront me. His face was livid with acid burns, and anger emanated from his face like a kiln’s heat. I stayed well back from the chair’s wicked blades. I could not see his cane. Polidori’s hands slipped inside the large pockets of his vest, no doubt concealing the flask of elixir, for it was no longer in his lap.

“Give it to me,” I said, poker held high over my shoulder. “It contains only my marrow. It’s useless to anyone but my brother.” My stomach churned. “Or was that a lie too?”

“Indeed it was. Any marrow would suffice.”

We’d merely been Polidori’s pawns, used to gather the ingredients—used to sacrifice our body parts. I felt a rage building inside me, and I welcomed it.

“You monster!” I spat.

“I did not want it to be this way, young master,” he said with a trace of what seemed genuine ruefulness. “My plan was to make two doses of the elixir. One for your brother. One for myself.”

“Why didn’t you, then?” I demanded.

“You did not bring me enough lichen from the tree.”

With a sick heart I remembered how I’d forced Elizabeth to abandon her task before her vial was full.

“We had no choice,” Elizabeth said. “There was lightning, and the vultures!”

“I completely understand,” said Polidori. “But the result was that I had ingredients for one dose only. The good news, for you, young master, is that I only needed to take two fingers, and not four.”

“The elixir’s mine! Give it to me!”

“Very well,” said the alchemist.

Both hands flew from his pockets. In the palm of one was a mound of yellow powder. In the other was some kind of tinderbox, which was instantly aflame. He raised the powder to his lips and blew, igniting a comet of fire that streamed toward me.

I scarcely had time to fling an arm across my face before I was engulfed. Vile fumes seared my nostrils and choked me. Something struck me hard, and I crashed to the floor, rolling over and over to put out the flames—but amazingly, I was not alight at all. The flame had spent itself seemingly without scorching me. Coughing, I staggered to my feet and saw Polidori hurtling toward the elevator, bellowing and swinging his brutal cane to clear Elizabeth and Henry from his path.

Fury obliterated my pain and exhaustion. I ran and, with a roar, threw myself at the back of his wheelchair. My weight tipped it, and it slewed wildly before toppling over, spilling Polidori face down onto the floor. For a brief moment I almost pitied him, his withered legs thin and quivering as he scrambled to turn himself over.

“Victor, he has the elixir!” Henry cried.

Polidori’s back was to me, and I had to run around him to see that the vial was indeed in his hands, and he was pulling at the stopper.

I lunged and knocked it from his grasp. In shared horror we both watched as the vial hit the flagstones—but did not break. Then I felt his fist slam into my jaw and drive my head back.

With stunning speed he dragged his body atop mine and had my neck locked in one powerful, flexed arm.

“You will not deny me this,” he hissed. “You will not deny me the chance of being healed.”

I writhed and flailed, but his wrestler’s grip closed ever tighter around my windpipe, cutting off my air.

“Get me the vial!” he shouted at Henry and Elizabeth. “Or I will break his neck!”

My injured hand plucked uselessly at his arm. My vision swam. My heart kicked violently and suddenly a great weight fell upon me and—

I had air, and gasped to fill my lungs.

Henry, the poker gripped in his hands, towered over me. Polidori’s senseless body was toppled upon my chest. I pushed him off, and Elizabeth helped me to my feet.

“Well done, Henry,” I croaked.

“Have I killed him?” he said. He was trembling.

“He breathes,” I said. “Where is the elixir?”

Elizabeth held the vial up before me, and we all turned and ran for the elevator. Inside I stared at the confusion of dangling ropes and pulleys. I cursed myself for not paying more attention when Polidori had worked them.

“This one, I think,” Elizabeth said, pointing.

“Henry, your help,” I said. We seized the rope and pulled, but nothing happened. In a frenzy I began tugging at others.

From the cellar floor came a groan.

“He’s stirring!” cried Henry.

“I’m
sure
it’s this one!” Elizabeth said, jabbing a finger.

“You already pointed at that one!”

“Yes,” she said, “because it’s the
right
one.”

“It does nothing! Look!”

“There was a lever or a brake he pulled first,” she muttered, looking around wildly, pushing at things.

Henry’s icy hand gripped my shoulder. Polidori was lifting
his head from the floor. I wished we had brought the poker. He glared at us. I had never seen such determination or malice. He flexed his arms and began walking toward us on his fists with terrifying speed, dragging his body behind him.

“Try now!” Elizabeth cried.

Polidori was not fifteen feet away.

We heaved at the rope, and this time felt the elevator’s frame shiver and lift a few inches off the floor.

“Again! Don’t stop!” I cried, for Polidori was very near the threshold.

He lunged, his right hand straining for the edge of the elevator floor, but Henry and I gave a mighty heave and hoisted ourselves just out of reach. We heard his strangled curse of defeat.

“He cannot get us now!” panted Henry.

We kept hauling at the rope, but were so exhausted that we rose more slowly with every pull. My right hand was of little use, and the pain in my wounds was brutal. A rivulet of sweat ran into my eye.

Even with the three of us, we could barely budge the elevator. How could it suddenly have become so much heavier?

And just as I understood, an arm darted up over the edge and slammed down on the floor. Like some horrific white spider, the hand hopped about, and before I could dance clear, it fastened around my ankle and dragged me off my feet. I landed with a thud and grasped the rope for dear life, for I was being pulled hard.

Polidori’s second arm came swinging over the edge and seized my other leg. Then his head lurched into view as he started hauling himself up my legs and into the elevator.

I thrashed about, trying to throw him off, but his grip was
so strong I feared his iron fingers would crush my flesh to pulp.

Henry grabbed one of Polidori’s hands and began prying his fingers off my ankle. Elizabeth kicked his head. But it was as though he no longer felt pain, as though his muscle and tissue would never tire.

My grip on the rope tightened and I noticed that as Polidori pulled on
me,
he also pulled on the rope, and so the elevator was still rising, albeit slowly. I looked up and saw we were not so far from the cellar’s stone ceiling.

“Henry!” I yelled. “Keep pulling!”

“What?” he shouted.

“Raise us!”

At this, Polidori looked up, and seemed to understand my plan, for he redoubled his efforts to clamber up me and into the elevator. His belly, hips, and legs still dangled over the edge.

In three feet he would have to let go, or be crushed.

Elizabeth kicked at him again, and he lost his grip for a moment, sliding down my body. I thought he might fall off altogether, but he grabbed hold of both my ankles. The elevator lurched upward.

Less than two feet now to the ceiling.

With a burst of preternatural energy and speed, he climbed up me once more: clawing up my legs, then grabbing at my waist. I bellowed and kicked even as I hauled on the rope with Henry.

The elevator lurched up another foot.

“Let go!” I shouted at him. “Or you’ll be severed!”

“And you will lose your feet!” he bellowed back.

In horror I saw he was right. He had dragged my legs over the edge.

For a moment no one moved. The elevator was filled with the sound of our animal grunts and panting.

“Then I will live without them!” I roared into the alchemist’s acid-stained face. “Henry, Elizabeth, pull hard!”

With all my strength I heaved on the rope. The elevator lurched up. Polidori tilted his face to the stone bearing down on him—and let go. The elevator, suddenly lighter, rocketed higher. I yanked my legs back, and stone grazed my feet as the gap closed before us.

We were in total darkness now, for we had not thought to bring a candle or lantern. And for a moment we just sat sprawled on the elevator floor, panting raggedly.

“We had best keep going,” I said. “He may have some way of summoning the elevator back to him.”

“Yes, you’re right,” said Elizabeth.

I felt her breath on my face, and realized she was close to me.

“You were very brave, Victor,” she said.

I stroked her cheek with the three fingers of my right hand. I moved my face closer to hers, and our mouths met in the darkness. I felt her tears on her cheeks, and tasted their salt against my tongue.

Abruptly she stood. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get to the surface!”

From below came the sound of Polidori shouting and cursing. I could not make out many of his words, for at times he seemed to be raging in another language.

“He wanted it for himself,” I puffed as we raised the elevator together. “He wanted his legs back.”

“He never meant for us to have it,” said Elizabeth. “He just used us to fetch his ingredients, the devil.”

Suddenly the elevator bumped to a stop, and I saw the faintest crack of light before us. The secret panels! Gasping for air, as though we’d been trapped beneath the sea, I stepped forward to throw them open.

“Wait!” Henry whispered, yanking me back.

“What?” I demanded.

“Krake,” he said.

A cold chisel was placed against my hand, its pressure firm and sharp, testing. I caught a glimpse of Polidori’s arm raised high with the mallet, and I clenched my eyes shut.

T
ensed, I pushed open the elevator doors, ready for the lynx to spring upon us.

The empty corridor stretched out in near darkness, only a pale flicker of orange light coming from the parlour.

“When we entered,” I whispered to the others, “Krake was before the hearth.”

“Let’s hope he’s asleep,” Henry breathed.

“Keep watch behind us,” I told him. “Elizabeth, set your gaze high; he is a good climber.”

As we stepped out of the elevator, its wooden planks groaned briefly and the sound seemed huge in the silent house. Once more I cursed myself for not bringing the poker or Polidori’s clubbed cane. Slowly we made our way down the corridor, pausing before the branch in the passage that led to the lavatory and bedchamber.

I listened. I sniffed, in case I could smell Krake. But he was the predator, not me, and his ears and nose were keener than mine. I leaned out around the corner. The corridor was empty.