Chapter Sixteen #2
Gall’s face had blanched, and Elswyth trailed off. He looked at the tray next to the sketchbook, where samples of each of the organs sat on bloody bits of cloth.
“Eden, Elswyth…” he said, shaking his head. “I’m afraid I’m out of my depth. You think these came from the dead women? That these are really their organs?”
“I doubted at first as well. After all, they could come from anywhere. Certainly there’s no shortage of corpses in London. But then I tested them, using the method you taught me to stimulate cell division and observe the chromosomes. Come see.”
Elswyth led him to the brass microscope and angled it toward the window to catch more light. He approached it anxiously, and once his eye was over the glass, Elswyth touched the sample there and injected it with a small amount of vitae, forcing the cells to divide.
“Hold there,” Gall said, and Elswyth stopped the flow. Gall observed for a moment, adjusting the knobs, and then took a sharp breath. He stood and wiped sweat from his brow with her kerchief. “All of them are…”
Elswyth nodded. “All the human tissues in this creature come from females.”
Gall’s face was the lily-white of a drowned man. “Oh dear. I’m afraid I will need to sit down.”
Elswyth led him to the desk chair, and he collapsed into it, wiping his brow again.
Elswyth, too stimulated to stop, continued speaking.
“And this creature is full of vitae—stored in some sort of rhizome, I think, but it’s almost crystalline, like sugar—somehow holding more energy than it possibly could.
Perhaps the Reaper took vitae from the dead women and used it to power his creation. ”
Gall shook his head. “Such a thing is not possible, Elswyth. Vitae can be taken from plants but not from animals or humans. Surely, you know this. It’s foundational to floromancy.”
Elswyth flexed her left hand. She turned away from him, hiding her scar, and faced the workbench.
“I no longer know what is possible, Dr. Gall. We are witnessing floromancy that is the stuff of legends—who is to say that a sufficiently advanced floromancer could not draw vitae from humans? We hold it within us, as do all living things.”
Gall seemed as though he would have a heart attack in her bedroom.
“Wait just a moment, Miss Elderwood—why would this Reaper fellow want to spy on you? If what you are saying is true, Elswyth, then you are in grave danger. If this creature was truly sent by the Reaper, then he is watching—for what purpose, we can only assume. I would mourn to see you suffer the same fate as his other victims. You should leave the city at once.”
Elswyth almost smiled. “I appreciate that, Dr. Gall, more than you could know. But I cannot leave the city. I have work yet to do.” It was true. If the Reaper had sent this thing to spy on her, then perhaps she was closer to discovering his identity than she’d thought.
Dr. Gall studied her face for a moment. Then he dropped his hand from her arm. “Well, if I cannot convince you to return home, at least allow me to take this thing from you. It should be destroyed.”
Elswyth frowned. “I agree, of course. And yet it is an eminently important discovery, is it not? We must learn what we can from it. This could advance our field by decades, if reverse-engineered. And there may yet be information about its maker hidden in its design.”
“It is your discovery. I will leave that decision up to you, but perhaps you will consider keeping it at the Royal Gardens. To keep such a thing in your home… What if it is dangerous, as you say?”
“That is prudent, Dr. Gall, but…” Elswyth said. She trailed off, trying to choose her words carefully.
“But you are defensive of your discovery, and would prefer to keep it close at hand,” Dr. Gall said.
Elswyth’s shoulders slumped. “With a discovery like this I could publish my research, and it would be read for hundreds of years. Everyone would remember the name Elswyth Elderwood.”
Gall smiled again, eyes crinkling. “Ah. The hubris of all scholars: to live forever through one’s work. I understand perfectly well.”
Elswyth exhaled. “Thank you, Doctor. I couldn’t bear it if I lost control over this discovery. I think it’s best if it was kept a secret until I can perform my experiments.”
Dr. Gall brought a finger to his lips. “Mum’s the word from me, Miss Elderwood. But how shall you keep it? If it is a juvenile, surely it will grow.”
“I’m afraid Mrs. Rose is right. I must terminate it. If it truly is a spy, I can’t risk it returning to its master.”
Gall blinked. “Drat. I didn’t think of that.”
“I do not wish to. But I fear I have no choice.”
“I know your views on taking life. Would you like me to…?” He nodded at the mandrake.
Elswyth shook her head. “No. If I’m going to be responsible for its death, I should at least be the one who does the deed.”
Gall frowned and examined the creature. “What a quandary it is. We entered biology because we revere life. How ironic that, in the pursuit of understanding, we must sometimes destroy the very thing we love.” He seemed glum for a moment but then righted.
“Oh well. Fire or hammer? I could perhaps procure a large gun…”
Elswyth smiled despite herself. “Formaldehyde will do. At least then I can preserve the corpse.”
“Of course. If you do decide to take up my offer, the Royal Gardens can host the specimen, and I believe we can keep it from prying eyes. Can I expect you this week for assistance in the lab?”
Elswyth inclined her head to him. “Of course, Doctor. Thank you for coming on such short notice. You were the only person I could think to call.”
Gall smiled. “I am honored. Now I’m afraid I have to leave you. Her Majesty expects her arthritis treatment, and I am not one to keep her waiting. Good day, Elswyth.”
“Good day, Doctor,” she said, and returned to the microscope.
Gall moved to the door but then hesitated. “And Elswyth?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“Do stay safe. This business with the Reaper worries me. If you ever feel in danger, call upon me. I may not be the biggest or boldest man, but I promise, I will be there.”
Elswyth could not help but feel gratitude for the man. What would Gall, short and scholarly, do against any sort of danger? “I shall, Doctor. Thank you.”
He left, and Elswyth spent the next hour watching the mandrake.
Mrs. Rose pestered her once, then twice, about tea with Lady Gimlet at one o’clock.
Elswyth took out her pocket watch—she was unwashed, sleepless, hair a mess and face covered in grime.
When she couldn’t delay it any longer, she went to the far wall and took the jar of formaldehyde from the shelf.
A yellowed paper label contrasted with the clear liquid within.
She uncorked it, and an acrid odor filled the room.
She looked at the little creature in the specimen jar. It mewled like a baby, then chirred, the face opening in a pathetic whine.
She had promised herself that she would never kill again. But it’s not alive, not really. Not in the way a person is, despite its components. It’s a plant. Organic but insentient.
She hesitated. Could it feel pain? Could it think, like an animal or a human, or was it really just a plant? Something driven solely by instinct? An organic machine?
You don’t have a choice, she thought. If it escaped and reached the Reaper, could it really relay what it had seen and heard back to him?
It did not appear to speak. How could it pass information to its master?
It was said that trees communicated with one another through electrical currents in their root systems, not unlike the synapses of a brain. But between a plant and a human?
She steeled herself. Then she opened the lid of the jar and began pouring the formaldehyde inside.
The creature opened its fly-trap face to cry out, but its mouth quickly filled with fluid.
The scream became nothing more than a stream of bubbles.
Then it began to choke on the chemical, the clear liquid filling its lungs.
It twitched, trying to swim, as the formaldehyde reached the top of the jar.
Elswyth slammed the lid shut. She watched the creature struggle, choke, and then slowly grow still. The mandrake began to float. The leaves atop its head waved like seaweed, and its flytrap-mouth hung open.
She frowned. It died like anything else.
Like something that felt pain. She shivered, calmed herself, and took a sip of cold tea.
Then she took the jar with the dead mandrake to the table on the far wall where she kept her plants.
The light from the window poured through, illuminating the clear liquid and the dead thing within.
She took a red cloth from the workbench and draped it over the specimen jar.
For one thing, she didn’t like looking at it.
For another, she couldn’t risk the creature photosynthesizing.
She had drowned the animal part of the thing, after all, but the plant part might still be alive.
She would have to dissect it later to ensure it was truly dead.
She looked over her shoulder as she left, imagining she heard a bubbling sound from beneath the red cloth. Then she moved to the bathroom, drew herself a bath, and readied herself for tea.