Brides of Frankengeld Pt. 06

4th October 1784

Damion's journal; it is the day of the post mortem.

Helena was very passionate last night. She slipped into bed with me and talked a little. I have to admit that I was very drowsy at the time, near sleep, and did not hear all of what she was saying. There was, I remember, talk of faith, and of leaping, and of gratitude. I was about to say that I had never seen her do much leaping, but I understood that women's garb did hold them back from more athletic pursuits. Her caresses became very pleasing and conversation stopped for a while.

This morning she said a simple 'thank you Damion', kissed me on the cheek, dressed, and went to help in the kitchen. I lay for a minute in bed wondering what exactly it was I had done right that had prompted her gratitude. Perhaps it was leaving her and Alicia alone last night. Alicia clearly needed a private conversation. I felt sorry for women who had an overbearing father or husband who would give them no time to themselves. Now if I was Helena's husband I would always permit...

I stopped, sharp, in mid thought. In my mind's eye I could see my old tutor talking about the importance of lineage, rapping his cane on the floor to emphasise the points he was making.

"Those who have raised themselves above the masses by deed of arms, or honour, or sacrifice, must always ensure that they remain in that place. For the marriage of a noble there are two things that are paramount, both beginning with L, that must guide them. They are Lineage and Land. The third thing beginning with L has no part in the arrangement until the other two are satisfied. That L is Love which is suitable only for poor quality novels, or the indulgence of the middle classes. It is sufficient that a nobleman is able to tolerate being with his wife for breeding purposes, nothing more is required..."

He went on and on, and returned to the subject repeatedly. Paying attention to lineage prevented the dilution of the blood line. Holding onto land ensured wealth. Love meant nothing. And, as a result, these so called 'truths' were lodged deep in my mind. I could not marry Helena, however beautiful, charming, witty or wise she was. I dressed, in sadness, and went to get my breakfast.

Belali was ready to travel. She had filled my medical bag with useful equipment, as yesterday, and was looking excited by the prospect of helping to conduct an autopsy. This was, of course, an outrageous thing for a young woman. She would not have even been allowed into the lecture theatre as a student at Engolstadt but here we could indulge her passion for knowledge. I waved farewell to Helena and promised I would be ready by half eleven for the trip to the ruined windmill and our encounter with the delectable Sophie.

The walk across town was short and brisk. The day was cool and there was little reason to delay. Belali insisted on carrying my bag, perhaps so that when we got to the Town Hall she had a reason and a purpose for entering. In the entrance hall the Chief and Freida stood waiting for us and we were conducted through to a stair to the rear of the building that climbed until we reached a room in the tower. Here, illuminated by the light from four beautifully glazed windows, was a table and on the table was the mummified body of our deceased woman. We prepared to examine this silent witness. For the examination I will refer you to my report which I penned for the Chief.

Autopsy report.

The body appears to be that of a young woman with the initial impression being that she was between the ages of 20 and 40. Her teeth are well developed and show none of the milk teeth of a child, they appear to be the final, permanent, set and include wisdom teeth, though not all have fully erupted. This might indicate the lower half of the age range suggested above. There are no missing teeth, either by age or accident, and tooth wear and decay is minimal.

She has mummified in a slumped position but a measure of her height in life would be around 170 centimetres. It is hard to decide her body shape but she does not appear to have been overweight. I would suggest that in life she was a slender individual.

Eye colour is impossible to discern at this point in time as the organs have shrivelled but it may be possible to remove and soak them in a rehydrating fluid to make an examination under a lens.

The hair is black, of around 40 centimetres in length, with an unusual stripe of white about 2 centimetres in width which may be the result of trauma earlier in her life. Her skull shape suggests a rounded face but there is damage to the nostrils. A close examination of this damage suggests that something was forced into the nostrils just before, or possibly just after, death. Whatever this was, it appears to have forced the nostrils open causing them to split. This phenomenon is one I have never observed before, but it is unlikely to be the cause of death unless some sort of poison was introduced into the nasal cavity by this means. I will take a sample of flesh to attempt to detect any poison.

The clothes had to be cut from the body since it has mummified into a dried state in which there is no flexibility of the joints. More detailed examination of the clothes showed them to be of a style popular amongst the servant classes just ten to fifteen years ago. This finding is at odds with the appearance of the corpse itself which gives an impression of great antiquity.

The body was examined for signs of injury and there was some evidence of discolouration around the throat, which may be the remains of bruising. Accordingly an incision was made and the flesh removed in that area to examine the underlying organs and bone structure. The hyoid bone was discovered to be fractured. This is generally taken to be a sign of strangulation, and strangulation in the absence of other evidence, is our best likelyhood of the cause of death.

The only other injuries inflicted on the body were a series of cuts around the pubic area. Probing these with a fine tool suggests these were shallow stab wounds, inflicted by a blade with straight edges. I was able to count eleven of these wounds but it was not possible to decide if they had been inflicted pre or post mortem. They were not deep enough to penetrate any major organs. It might be speculated that they had been inflicted to cause pain and humiliation. There would have been some blood loss but probably not enough to kill.

A mineral substance was observed on the body and I have collected samples to try to identify it. The substance appears to be crystalline in form and to cover at least half of the torso.

For completeness it was decided that the chest cavity should be opened to examine the internal organs. I must stress that the skin was intact before I performed this action because, on removing the skin on the chest and cutting open the rib cage, it was discovered that all the major organs were missing. The exception to this was the heart which remained in place.

I am at a loss to explain how this occurred. The woman could not have lived in this state. And there is no way that major organs such as the lungs or liver could have been removed surgically without evidence of incisions. The removal of these organs would, if the person was alive at the time, have resulted in almost instant death.

I suggest that the body be retained for further tests and examination at a later stage.

Dr. Damion Von Frankengeld.

The formality of the report does not do justice to the activity in the room. We chatted and discussed every part of the examination.

The Chief mostly held back from the table. The deceased was a woman after all. As a doctor I was permitted to look upon her nakedness but he was, I think, acutely aware he was intruding on her privacy. And, even if she was dead, she deserved respect.

I performed the surgical elements, of course, closely observed by both Freida and Belali.

As the work progressed the mystery grew deeper. She looked ancient but was wearing modern clothes that couldn't have been put onto an inflexible centuries-old corpse. And great age did not fit with the hiding place in the bear either. But it did bring the girl closer to our time, and possible identification.

"Sometime about twelve years ago," said Freida. "Or thereabouts, a woman was attacked. Strangled to death and stabbed in her pleasure garden, or stabbed first and then killed."

< stab show anger to women >

I translated.

Freida nodded, "Yes, I agree. Much anger. I suppose it's not possible to tell if she was sexually assaulted, Damion."

I shook my head. "Not from the state of the body."

< how made... dry stick >

Belali didn't have a gesture for mummification, something that didn't surprise me.

"I don't know how she was mummified, Belali," I answered. "And I'm beginning to think that magic is the only way to explain her missing organs. I will ask Monifa when I have the chance if she is aware of a sorcerer that can do this."

"What do you make of the damage to the nostrils?" asked the Chief.

"Torture?" suggested Freida.

< make her sleepy with drug >

I translated. Everyone agreed that was a possibility. But what had actually happened would be difficult to establish. We turned to her identity.

"I will set a man to search the records," said the Chief. "We now have a description and it may be she was reported missing."

"Tomorrow I will start talking to the traders," announced Freida. "Some of those who have been trading for many years might know her."

< Una will examine crystals >

Belali held the glass container up to the light. The strange crystals were also a mystery but perhaps we could discover their nature.

The Chief covered the body with a white sheet and the rest of us packed away our equipment. It was nearly time for me to meet Helena but the Chief had one more request of us.

"I asked that you indulge me to stay just a few minutes more," he said. "I did not want to distract you from your work but there is something else I need you to see."

We were all happy to stay a little longer and he led the way down the stairs, and then into the rooms under the Town Hall. At the end of a long, cool, corridor we came across a door which he unlocked, handing me the lantern he carried. The door swung open and we could see, in the dim light, an object lying under a white sheet.

The Chief removed the sheet. On the slab was a mummified corpse.

"Last spring," said the Chief. "A tree had to be felled, because it was threatening to fall upon part of the ruinous city walls. It was skilfully felled so as to drop away from the stones. But, when it hit the ground, it dropped upon a hidden rock and the trunk split open. This poor individual was inside. At the time it was a mystery too great for me to figure. But now."

He looked at us expectantly. We stared down at a figure that looked almost identical to the young woman we had just been examining. And it too had come from an impossible resting place. If this was also murder then the killer, or killers, had struck twice.

There was no more time, I had to go to join Helena and the delectable Sophie. I promised the Chief that I would return to perform another autopsy. Freida and Belali were trying to talk excitedly and I found myself worrying how Belali would safely return to number 34.

"Don't worry, Herr Doctor," said the Chief, seeing my concern. "When they have finished their conversation I will personally escort your young assistant home."

Helena's Diary

Dear Diary, what a day it's been. So many new things, and joy and danger in equal quantities. It feels just like a dream, but it was real.

After dearest Damion and Belali left to meet the Chief of Police I put together a bag of exploration tools and, for good measure, added a picnic. I included some of Damion's medical supplies in the bag, for if the mill was dangerous we might need them. Then I helped Una with her work until it was time to go.

The stables had the horse and cart ready but were surprised that it was me collecting it. I took my guide from Lord Philip and tried to look entirely confident, and it worked. I climbed up, took the reins, and encouraged the horse in a gentle manner. It took three steps backwards first, then understood what I was trying to do and set off at a nice pace. Darling Damion had said that the horse knows its business, and he was right. Very soon we were in front of the Town Hall and I stopped it and sat and waited.

The Town Hall clock struck the half hour and, a minute later, Damion came out. He saw me, waved, and strode over to the cart. I could see he had that look on his face when he was distracted, then he shook his head, and smiled. His eyes showed he was proud of me for collecting the cart. He always seems pleased when I do something new, grow in my abilities, become more than what I was. He threw his bag into the back and swung up beside me. I expected he would take the reins from me but all he said was, "Off we go then."

As we travelled he told me what had been discovered, the strange things about the body, and the even stranger thing that there was another victim. Some of it made my blood run cold. Especially the things that suggested the poor girl might have been tortured before she died. Who would do this sort of thing? What sort of person would kill two girls? Then I thought. Damion's father might do something like this, it is a good thing he's dead. But that led me to think about Sophie's comment that sometimes monsters don't stay dead, that their story continued. I shivered, even though the afternoon was clement.

Damion was full of praise for Belali calling her brave and clever. He feels she can learn much and be a real asset to the medical practice. He also talked a little about the coins that his brother had given him. Five thousand staters could do a lot of good but he wanted to think about it for a while before he invested them. He asked me what I would spend them on but I had no chance to reply for then we heard screaming.

The road was passing a field of grain which was bring harvested. There were several women with sickles and two men with scythes that, a moment ago, had been working hard scattered across the field. Now there was consternation and chaos and women calling for help. I stopped the cart and Damion snatched up his medical bag and leapt down. I dismounted too and tied the reins to a convenient bush, then followed my love.

One of the men lay on the ground with Damion bent over him. The man's leg was covered in blood. The other man was trying to explain what had happened, that the scythe had hit an obstacle, twisted, and delivered a deep cut. It is no surprise that the grim reaper uses one of these tools, they have often separated a man from his life.

I knew that Damion would need my help so I threw myself onto my knees next to him. He indicated where to grip to stem the flow of blood and delved in his bag for his tools. I will not write here of the desperate work we performed that day. I don't have the words for what Damion did but, dear diary, I am pleased to tell you that together we saved the man's life. It was a close run thing and by the end my hands were covered in blood. As I sat back on my haunches a bottle of wine was given me to drink, by his grateful wife I believe, and water was found to wash our hands clean.

Damion told the wife to bring her husband to his consulting rooms in a day or so that the wound, and the numerous stitches, could be examined. She looked at him aghast and said they could not afford a doctor's fee. Already the harvesters around her were making a collection of small coins in the hope of paying us for our efforts. Damion refused their money and told the wife the consultation was free. Here we hit pride. They were impoverished but unwilling to accept charity, so I intervened.

I took the woman aside and told her that the cost for today's work was the smallest of small coins. And I suggested that she could pay for the consultation with a variety of plaited loaf that I knew farmers around here excelled in baking. She looked at me with much suspicion.

"That can't be right," she said, looking at Damion in his fine doctor's clothes.

"He doesn't understand what it is like to be as we are," I replied. "Poor, but with our pride."

"You have never been poor," she said, looking at my clothes that sang out my new status.

"On the contrary," I whispered. "That couple over there," I indicated the other man holding his wife by the waist, "could be my own mother and father."

"So why are you not still poor?" she asked.

"Because of him," I replied. "Thank you for your payment. We will, I hope, see you in a few days."

Damion and I walked back to the cart in silence, then he looked at me and paused, "Did you take money from that woman?"

"Yes," I said, showing him the tiny bronze coin.

"But why?" he sighed. "She needed that."

"You saved her man's life," I replied. "They might have been able to do something themselves but I doubt it. Without you she would have been a widow, and this coin would have been little use to her, except perhaps to place on one of his eyes before he was coffined. Besides, she has her pride, services must be paid for."

"So why did she baulk at the idea of a consultation?"

"When you are poor you avoid doing things you cannot afford. It is easier on the mind to decide you do not need something than to incur a debt you cannot pay."

"So a peasant farmer can be honourable too."

"Did you ever doubt it?" I replied.

"I have never had much to do with farmers," he admitted. "But I suppose all ranks of people can have their honour."

He looked like he was about to embark on a long discussion about this but we had already lost a lot of time. I brought him back to our task this afternoon.

"We are very late for our meeting with Sophie," I reminded him.

That made him hurry. We quickly remounted the cart and were on our way in moments. And this time he took the reins and pushed the horse hard to try to make up time. I found myself hoping that he had the same urgency when he was coming to meet me, but I doubted it.

Soon the windmill came into view. It had an unwholesome look about it, partially collapsed on one side with a great spike of stones in the other. Like a tooth that had partially rotted. I wasn't surprised that locals suggested it was haunted by the spirit of the murderous monster that had perished there.

We could see a horse and cart tethered there. This must be Sophie's I thought. But there was no sign of her.

"Damn her," said Damion. "She's gone in without us."

I was going to remind him that she had chased werewolves for years before he even met her. That she must be able to look after herself. But then I realised it was pointless, he wouldn't listen. We dismounted and I led the horse to graze near its friend then we prepared to descend. I hitched my skirts up a little so that they would not tangle around my feet and we distributed daggers, lanterns and other supplies. There was an unusual iron ladder that had been fastened to a solid beam. This was our way into the depths.

It was wrought from pieces of iron that were woven into a jointed ladder. Much like the one's that are made from rope and wood, but much more sturdy. And, because it was linked, it twisted and curved to accommodate the shape of the hole into which it had been dropped. This had come from Sophie's home, a castle far to the north, and I wondered what other ingenious devices were stored there for the use of adventurers.

Damion, of course, insisted on going first. And, once he was clear, I set my feet on the rungs and followed. A naughty thought went through my mind that, if he looked up, he would be able to see I had chosen the red knickers today. It made me giggle and I heard him below me.

"Concentrate Helena," he harrumphed. "This is not an afternoon picnic."

"I put a picnic in the bag in the cart," I replied, as I struggled down the gently swaying ladder. "Just in case afterwards you wanted a meal with Sophie."

"Oh," he sounded surprised. "Thank you. That was very thoughtful of you. Ah... I have reached the bottom."

The ladder jerked and swung around as he jumped off, and I hung on tight. Then, when it had settled a little, I made the final descent. I swore, not swear words, for that would have been unladylike, but made a promise to myself. An oath to create a costume for adventuring that was more suitable to physical activity, the acrobatics and athletics required to keep up with the men in their far less constricting clothes. When I dropped the last half metre, the ladder did not go all the way to the floor, my feet splashed in a shallow puddle.

Damion had opened the shutter on his lantern and he moved it about to reveal a tumble of stones and wooden beams. Near the edge, where we had landed, the water was shallow but it deepened towards the middle.

"If the monster fell into here," he said. "Then he might have survived. Sophie was right to be concerned."

There was no sign of Sophie here but I thought I could hear faint noises. In the dim light at the limit of Damion's lantern I thought I could see a greater darkness. Was it a hole?

"Can you shine the light over there?" I asked Damion. "I think there is an exit to this place that does not require me to climb that swaying ladder."

He took a couple of steps forward and shone the light. There was indeed a hole. It looked like a natural cavern entrance. Perhaps at one time it had been blocked by worked stone for there was a pile in the water nearby.

"Sophie is not here," declared my love. "We must risk that entrance."

By keeping to the edge of the chamber we could avoid the deeper water. It might have been that there was a well in this room, for use by the miller and his family. If so it was now full of stone and charred timbers, which might account for the overflow. But, if I hoped for a dry passage in this underground I was disappointed. There was a stream down this narrow, winding cave. Perhaps the well was over a natural spring and this was the way the excess water left.

As we walked I could see a light ahead, greater than could be accounted for by Damion's lantern, and suddenly the narrow passage opened into a wide cave. It was brighter than I expected because, in the roof of the chamber, was a fissure (I had to ask Freida about that word) that let in daylight. The chamber was set out as a dwelling with skins on rocks and the floor, and makeshift tables on which were, astonishingly, books! The water that trickled down the passage entered this room, then pooled into a small, but deep, pond. Perfect for washing. Next to this pond was a bar of soap and a wash rag.

If I had been asked to describe the lair of a monster then I would have suggested the bones of slaughtered enemies, and treasure stolen from them piled in a corner. Perhaps a throne for gloating over the latest captive. Not books and washing items. Damion was similarly troubled.

"We are in the wrong place," he declared. "This is the dwelling of someone who is cultured but in reduced circumstances."

The faint sounds, which seemed to me like the grunts made by wrestlers, were slightly louder now. I looked around, wondering if the sounds were coming from the fissure above. I shall use that word a lot now, I like it. They were not, they came from a tall gash in the cave wall at the far side. It was, perhaps, three metres tall and a couple wide. This was not the final cave.

"Shall we keep going?" I asked. "Sophie is not here either. She must have gone down there."

I pointed at the tall gash in the cave wall. Damion put down the book he was examining.

"Socrates," he said, clearly this was unsettling to him. Then he saw where I was pointing. "Oh yes, Helena, we should keep going."

Perhaps he was distracted, perhaps his ears were full of wax, but he didn't seem to be hearing the faint sounds I could hear. He led the way into the fissure (there, I have used the word again) and we descended a series of natural steps. Then I could see him tense up, finally he had heard the sounds.

"Sophie wrestles with the monster," he cried and rushed forward.

I tried to tell him that the noises sounded like a completely different sort of activity but he wasn't listening. I moved as quickly as I could to keep up and entered this new cave just behind him. It was. I had to admit, very pretty. Long thin spikes of some sort of pale crystal were draped from the ceiling, in parts, and where they did there were similar bumps on the floor. A lantern hung on an iron hook that had been hammered into the wall, and the light caused the walls to sparkle. There were rugs across a raised area, bear skins or something similar, which created the impression of a bed. And next to that bed, energetically pleasuring Sophie, was the Monster.

Victor Frankenstein's New Man was standing up with his trousers around his large iron boots, and he had Sophie around the waist. She was impaled on his phallus which reminded me of The Nubian, or possibly The Troll, dildos that I had the pleasure of testing a few weeks back. Simply put, it was long and thick, and very erect. Damion gasped, I think he was on the point of tears.

"Let her go, monster!" he shouted. "Or I will be forced to make you."

I looked at Sophie's face. She did not look like a woman who was suffering an assault. On the contrary she looked as if he hoped the pleasuring would last a long time. She glanced down at Damion and spoke.

"Don't you dare," she cried.

The Monster had her gripped around the waist and was moving her on his phallus. He pulled, and then pushed, so that she slid along his entire fanny tickler. Her arms and legs dangled, well clear of the floor, and gently swayed with the movement of her body. She was clearly very relaxed and was in no way trying to escape, just letting him take charge of her body. His strength must have been considerable to hold her off the ground in that way for although she was a slim, small breasted, woman with hips barely wider than her waist, she was lean and muscular.

"But Sophie," cried Damion. "Do you not want to be rescued?"

"Lord no!" she replied, loudly. "We're engaged! At least, I think we're engaged!"

She was reaching back now, trying to touch her lover, but the position made it hard to grasp anything other than his giant hands. He noticed her attempts to connect and snarled.

"Rrrraaar," he growled. "Rrrraaar... food good... smoke good... beer good... fuck better."

Then he pulled at her until his phallus was fully inside her. She gave a deep, satisfied, grunt. He rotated her on his member until she was facing upwards and pulled her up to his torso. She flung her arms around his chest and begged him to put her on her back.

"Please put me on my back," she said. "And pleasure me, my Lord, I am yours."

And, to Damion's consternation, he did. I thought such a brutish Monster was incapable of taking instructions but he did as he was told. He lay her down on the furs, gently, but without releasing her from her impalement on his member. Then he proceeded to loom over her and plunder her pleasure garden with long, hard strokes and she cried out with joy. He was doing what I was sure Damion wanted to do, but I think the thing that really upset him was Sophie's evident pleasure in being mated to this creature of dead flesh.

I think it was that she was mated. In Engolstadt my late husband told me once that swans mated for life. That the male and female performed a courtship ritual and, if they accepted each other, they were together all their days. He said that the ritual lasted about half an hour and, once mated, they copulated immediately. He was, at the time, trying to get me drunk and persuade me to copulate with him, but I think he got his facts right.

What happened when Sophie and the New Man met? Something significant, or they would not be openly pleasuring before us now. I watched Sophie as she dragged at the creature's clothes, trying to expose more flesh she could touch. She must have read my thoughts and made explanation. They continued pleasuring while she was doing this and I have no skill in reproducing the various snarls, gasps, grunts and screams. So I will write her words in plain, dear diary, and leave you to imagine the rest.

"I waited until the sun was high and then could not resist exploring. I had set the ladder and now I used it to enter the space I had found. No bones of a dead... person... did I find. So, I followed the water flow and discovered the exit."

Damion had collapsed to his knees and was holding his head in his hands. Sophie chose this moment to have her 'let-go' and she was very vocal, grabbing at the furs with her hands and pulling them towards herself, then collapsing back and letting them fall again.

"I met... Prometheus... in the second chamber. To my surprise he was sat reading when I entered but he sprang up to defend himself. I asked him what he was reading, I'm not sure why I did not become aggressive, but we talked philosophy for much time instead of attacking each other. He has learned, or perhaps remembered, many words. He only reverts to 'fire bad, beer good' when he is feeling shy."

I found it hard to imagine this creature as shy. He was now divested of his jacket and shirt and his massive chest, with its many surgical scars was pushing Sophie into the furs, crushing her delicate pointed breasts. His narrow waist was a resting place for her fine hands and, lower down, his buttocks rose and fell as he powered into her, seemingly tireless.

"I looked at him and he at me and we both, I think, experienced desire. He invited me to view his stalactites. I was unsure what they were but he explained they were a phenomenon that speleologists enjoyed. I did not know that they adorned his bedroom. But, such was their beauty that, when he proposed copulation, I agreed. We were mated like the beasts of the fields and rivers, a lifelong commitment to each other."

This time she 'let-go' with a shriek that bounced off the walls, and she nearly bounced off the bed as she kicked her legs in the air. And her mate growled as he pumped his seed into her. I had to admit, in terms of athletics, they were a well matched pair, even if he did tower over her. I found myself wishing her well.

"Prometheus," she continued. "Is my mate and no longer a danger to society. I will ensure it. I will teach him the ways of honour. You can relax now, my friends."

"Fuck good," said Victor's New Man.

"Yes dear," Sophie replied. "But let's see our guests out first. They have important medical work to do."

So we were not needed. I had seen this behaviour before when a young couple had just met. They would reject all their friends as they gazed into each other's eyes, or rolled in each other's arms. She took my hand and led the way back to the ladder with Damion trailing behind. And the New Man even further back watching us suspiciously as if we were about to steal Sophie away from him. As we stood by the metal ladder I gave Sophie a hug and kissed her on both cheeks, and wished her well in her new life.

Then the rumble began. A premonition of danger overtook me as the windmill above us settled and shifted. My thoughts ran fast, and everything around me seemed slowed. I saw Damion move, his face a picture of fear and alarm. It was an equal distance to both Sophie and I but, to my delight, he chose me to protect. He pushed me to one side, away from the falling dust which at any moment might become rock and heavy wooden beams. Then he bent me over to crouch upon the ground and put his body across me so that any falling debris would strike him first.

With a roar Prometheus strode forward and did exactly the same for Sophie. His broad back covered her and rapidly changed colour to grey as the dust continued to fall. A minute later and the rumbling sound stopped, the dust petered out, and we were to survive another day.

Damion was very quiet on the way home and let me drive the cart. His beloved Sophie had been taken from him. But I remembered that moment under the ruins of the mill when, in the face of danger, he chose to protect me. I said nothing about it, he will tell me his thoughts when he's ready.

Damion's Journal

I can, I think, dismiss the activity of this afternoon in a few paragraphs, though they are hard to write.

From the Town Hall we set off to help Sophie in her investigation under the ruined windmill, a noble task and one that I thought would improve me in her eyes, bringing our conjoining one step more likely. What a fool I was to think this.

On the way we were delayed. A farmer had given his leg a nasty slash with a scythe and Helena and I were obliged to halt and render assistance. By dint of tourniquet and Helena's strong grip we were able to stem the blood but it took some time to mend the severed blood vessel and suture the wound. Little did I know how fatal this delay would be to my heart. Or, more accurately, how fatal it was to my fantasy - for now I recognise it for what it was.

We were therefore late at the windmill but we followed Sophie down into the depths. I must acknowledge how brave Helena was in tackling a swinging metal ladder and the chaos of stones at the bottom. She struggled through the water without complaint and spotted features and routes quicker than I. There were three chambers under the mill, one of worked stone that might have been a storeroom with a well, and two natural caves.

The first cave had all the trappings of a home with seating and books. The books astonished me and I could not reconcile them with the lair of a monster. The second cave contained Sophie, and Victor's creation. They were copulating. I cannot use any other word for it. It was pure animal lust. I wanted to look away but I couldn't.

Sophie gave an explanation of how she came to be the New Man's mate. It could be summed up as lust at first sight, though she insisted that they did talk philosophy for a little while before. I suppose that was the wooing. She seems convinced that they are mated for life and she has not broken her vow by this because it is unlikely that a wedding will follow. I wanted to tell her that there were as many beasts of the fields and rivers, as she put it, that were promiscuous and polyamorous as there were those who followed the teachings of Christianity and cleaved to one mate for life. Was Victor's creation a noble swan, or a rutting stag who would copulate with all the females of his herd?

And it was clear that Sophie felt she could shape Victor's New Man, bend him to her will. It seemed to me an unlikely quest but many a woman has tried to rehabilitate their husband and failed. If she could prevent him from being a danger to mankind that would be excellent, but could it be done?

We were sent away. They wanted to enjoy each other again. But, as we arrived at the ladder back to the light, the windmill gave a shrug and we were in danger of crushing death.

I have discovered that in those instants when you must act quickly it is often the case that you choose true, when in a more relaxed moment your mind can trick you. I went to save Helena, gripped by a desire to protect her from destruction, and abandoned Sophie. And, in that instant, my fantasy was shattered and I knew what I must do. But in private, not at number 34 with everyone looking on.

A letter from Countess Alicia von Hinterleitner to the Chief of Police.

Dearest Vasile,

Thank you for your letter, which I discovered on my return from Vienna. I have read it several times and it gives me great joy with each and every reading. You cannot understand entirely my situation, but please accept the simple truth that I never expected such an invitation in all my days.

I would be delighted to take a drink with you this very day, if you are free to attend me. I shall be at the Kaffeehaus when the Town Hall clock strikes eight of the evening.

I hope to see you there.

Alicia

Helena's Diary

Damion has requested that I dine with him alone at the Kaffeehaus, and has asked the rest of our friends to sort their own evening meal. I fear this is the end of our road together. Today I was witness to the shattering of his dreams of a life with the noble Sophie. Bad enough that his feelings for her have been dashed, but to have someone watch his hopes being destroyed is, I think, too much for him. He will want me, his witness, out of his life forever or I will be a constant reminder of his humiliation.

So tonight I anticipate being dismissed. Oh he will do it kindly, and I have no doubt he will gift me enough coin to live comfortably, but he will still want me to go. And go far away where I cannot remind him of his loss. I spent a little time deciding which clothes I would take with me, packed them, then dressed for the evening. Damion sat alone in his study, perhaps he was writing references for me, or writing the latest events in his journal.

At seven we walked to the Kaffeehaus and Erik gave us a quiet booth in the corner where we could eat in private. Damion ordered our food and then looked very serious. He took my hands in his. I braced myself. I had been telling myself all the way across town that whatever was said I would not cry.

"Helena," he said. "I want to apologise."

I kept quiet, to have spoken would have lost me all my composure.

"I have been awful to you," he continued. "And I want to make amends."

This wasn't what I expected. Where was the dismissal, sad, but necessary?

"I have been suffering under a delusion ever since I met Sophie on the coach we took from Engolstadt. The delusion that I loved her. And, in the grip of that delusion, and under the influence of the words of my old tutor, I have failed to see what is in front of me."

I had no idea what his tutor might have said. Something in Greek or Latin I suppose. I gripped his hands, hoping, praying, that his next words would be what I most wanted to hear.

"Today I had a choice to make," he said. "And my heart guided me to you, and not Sophie. I want to tell you... that I love you."

My heart leaped in my chest, but my naughty mind could not resist a jest, I whispered, "I know." For I had known for a long time that his heart yearned for me, but his upbringing prevented him from saying it.

"Yes," he put on a wry expression. "You have always seen clearer than I. Well... what do you say? It would be fair for you to castigate me for my foolishness."

I did not do so. I held his hands and told him I had loved him for a long time, as he well knew. I said I was so very happy that he had the same feelings for me. I did not tell him I thought he was going to dismiss me, he would have been shocked to hear I had experienced more pain on the very evening he told me the truth. And it was my fault. I had misjudged his mood and punished myself without reason.

We ate, one handed, because neither of us wanted to let go of the other. And it was one of the best meals I have ever had. We shared our stories, told each other of our feelings, and acknowledged things we had not talked about before. That his concern for my safety, and mine that he should not face danger alone, were signs of our feelings. Our love for each other. I learned that he remembered he had told me he loved me on that dreadful tower when facing down his father. But that since, at that time, he felt it impossible to marry out of his status, he had pretended to forget so as not to taunt me with the spectre of being forever denied the sanctity of marriage.

Then I made my speech, I put my finger over his mouth momentarily to keep him quiet.

"Damion," I said. "We do not have to marry. It is enough that we love each other. And I want our love to be free and open to others. Like Elodie and Erik's love that permits other partners. There will be times when you should, must, pleasure other women. And I will joy in it. And I will be generous with my body as well, for it has always been that way with me. And so we will be happy, and open, and not become mean, bitter or restricting of each other's needs."

"But yet," he replied. "Marriage may come."

"True," I said. "Marriage may come. But let us not torture ourselves by insisting on it. If fate leads us to the altar then I, for one, will not turn away from the man I love."

We drank our wine and then decided to leave. I think we both thought of bed, and the ways we could show our love. As we passed other booths I noticed in one that Alicia and Vasile were sitting, quietly talking. She had a red wine in front of her, and he had a tall glass of coffee, the kind to which Erik added a liqueur. They looked deep in conversation and, most importantly, relaxed in each other's company. I did not disturb them. If Alicia wishes to let me know what happened I had no doubt she would arrange to talk. I certainly had news to share with her.

As we walked through the darkened streets Damion suddenly paused.

"What shall we tell them?"

"Do you mean our friends?"

"Yes, Helena," he almost whispered it. "Anya, Una and Belali were strangely curious when I said I was going to talk with you alone."

"We could tell them the truth."

I could see him struggling with his upbringing. Then he stiffened and threw back his shoulders.

"You are right," he said. "We will tell them... but in the morning."

But it wasn't to be. We climbed the stairs to number 34 and opened the door to a torrent of abuse, all of which was aimed at poor Damion.

"If she goes then I go too," growled Anya, waving a bony finger in his face.

"I thought you an honourable man," cried Una. "A man that was kind. But you are wicked!"

Belali signed, < why send away? why? why? >

Damion was baffled and put his hands out in defence.

Damion's Journal

I was feeling very happy on our return from the Kaffeehaus and looking forward to bed but when we entered the hallway my friends all shouted at me. They seemed to think Helena was going away somewhere which, if true, was news to me.

"Why are you abusing me?" I demanded.

"I saw her packing," said Anya. "She looked so sad. And in her mind it was clear that something had happened this afternoon that made her convinced you would send her away."

"Anya told me," said Una. "And I told Belali."

Belali signed, < sharp eyes... Helena sad when she go out >.

"He has not demanded I go," Helena spoke up in my defence. "Though, Anya, you are right in your reading of my thoughts. I did believe he would ask me to go. But I was wrong."

Three women waited for her to explain. I breathed a sigh of relief. A truce has been called, for a moment. But this meant our secret could not be kept until tomorrow, it must come out now, and perhaps I should be the one to say it.

"I wanted to talk to Helena," I said, and they all turned their gaze on me. No basilisk could be as terrifying. "I wanted to tell her I love her."

"Oh we know that," replied Una, speaking for them all. The tension in the room collapsed like a soap bubble.

"And I wanted to do it privately so that... sorry... did you say you knew?"

Belali signed, < Damion love Helena... easy to see >.

I was a bit shocked. I'd thought I was able to keep my feelings secret from those around me. But it looked like I was an open book. I took Helena's hand and announced, "We... are going to bed. The rest of you can lock up. Goodnight to you all!"

When we got to the bedroom I noticed the bag of clothes tucked to the side of the bed.

"Did you really think I would tell you to go?" I asked.

"Er... yes," she said, very quietly.

To be continued...