Chapter 17
The next day, Victoria was no closer to understanding what she should do with her future.
As soon as it was found out that her father was dead, she would have nowhere to live.
Helena may take her in, but her and her father’s things?
Her creation? No. There was no future for all of that.
When the bell for the front gate rang, though, she was not surprised.
It seemed inevitable that something else would happen quickly to confuse the situation.
When she opened the door, it was also no surprise that the two people she dreaded seeing the most were there: the baron and Wilhelm.
“Miss Frankenstein, how are you?” Baron von Lichtenmarstein asked smoothly, lifting a hand to smooth one side of his mustache.
“Good evening,” Victoria replied, her voice barely steady.
“We’ve missed you at our gatherings,” Wilhelm said, stepping closer, invading the threshold Victoria stood rigid in, doing her best to block their entrance. “Helena and Sophia have been beside themselves wondering after you.”
“How is your wife?” Victoria asked, forcing the words out.
“She is well. It was…admirable of you to repair her so expertly,” Wilhelm replied, his tone smooth and deliberate. His gaze sharpened as it settled on Victoria, as though he had slipped a blade between her ribs and was pausing only to watch how deeply it would sink.
The vise around Victoria’s chest tightened, biting into her breath until it hurt to draw air at all.
Panic pressed in, dense and suffocating.
“It was nothing,” she said quickly, waving her hand as though she could scatter the true meaning of his words into harmless dust. “Minor things. The sort of knowledge every housewife possesses.”
“From what I hear,” the baron interjected, his voice low and weighty, “you were required to give her several stitches.” His eyes roamed over Victoria with invasive precision, prying, searching, as though he might peel the truth directly from her skin.
Victoria shifted her weight, her pulse hammering.
This—she realized with sickening clarity—was Wilhelm’s last, petty cruelty after she had ended the affair and severed the strings he once pulled so easily.
“It was simple stitching,” she insisted, though she could hear the thin tremor beneath her words.
“Tapestry work, really. Any woman could do it.”
“Yes, well,” the baron huffed, folding his hands together, “you are aware that it is illegal for women to practice medicine in any form. I’m sure you understand.
” His mouth curled faintly. “The work is far too complex, too intricate for a woman’s mind.
That is precisely why women are barred from medical education. ”
“Yes. Of course. I understand,” Victoria said, her voice catching despite her efforts. “I only—only recalled what to do from observing my father over the years.”
The baron’s eyes narrowed. “Speaking of which—where is your father? I would like to speak with him.”
“He’s in bed,” Victoria answered quickly. “Ill.”
“Ill?” Wilhelm echoed softly, his eyes glittering.
“Yes. He’s been unwell for days. Quite…contagious,” she added hastily.
The two men exchanged a glance.
“I came to thank him for saving my son,” the baron said slowly, each word measured. “Last night.”
Cold terror slid down Victoria’s spine.
“Sick in bed for days?” Wilhelm murmured, almost cheerfully. “Then who, I wonder, worked on little Franz?”
“Miss Frankenstein,” the baron said, stepping forward, his voice dropping into something dark and dangerous, “you do understand that an unlicensed woman practicing medicine violates ecclesiastical law.” He advanced into her space, forcing her backward.
“Such a crime carries severe consequences. Permanent imprisonment. Possibly death.”
Victoria retreated another step, her knees trembling.
“After a public trial,” he continued, relentless, “you would be erased from record entirely. Denied consecrated burial. A woman meddling in such matters—especially one without noble blood—would be subject to public hanging.”
Her bones vibrated inside her skin, as though her body itself were preparing to collapse.
“I only hope,” Wilhelm added lightly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “that you haven’t been assisting your…
eccentric father with his peculiar experiments.
It’s one thing for a man to push boundaries in science.
Another entirely for a young woman to indulge in such dangerous curiosities. ”
“No,” Victoria said desperately. “Nothing like that.” She backed away again as both men pressed forward.
“If your father is confined to his bed,” the baron snarled, “then who, exactly, do you claim worked on my son if it were not you?”
“I did.”
The voice came from behind them. Low and even, threaded with something unmistakably threatening.
All three turned at once.
For a breathless moment, Victoria could not tell whether her heart had stopped altogether or begun to race uncontrollably.
Innominatus stood in the entrance to the foyer, fully dressed though unmistakably disheveled: shirt, trousers, waistcoat—her father’s clothing, she realized dimly.
Wrinkled. Ill-fitting. Yet he wore them with an effortless authority that made the fabric seem intentional, even regal.
A wide strip of linen trailed from his hands, pooling at his bare feet, its upper length wrapped and tucked around his throat.
He stood only a few paces from the baron.
Cold washed over Victoria as the blood drained from her face.
“I removed the candy from the child’s throat,” Innominatus continued calmly. “Was there an issue with my work?”
Gooseflesh erupted along Victoria’s arms and neck at the quiet accusation in his tone. He met the baron’s gaze without hesitation, unblinking. She wanted to both embrace him and strike him in the same breath.
“Who are you?” Wilhelm snapped, his eyes darting between Victoria and the man, clearly registering the connection.
“I am Dr. Frankenstein’s assistant,” the creature replied smoothly. “And who might you be?”
There was something in his voice—polite, measured—that carried the unmistakable shadow of a threat, neatly wrapped in civility.
“Assistant?” the baron repeated, turning toward him.
“Yes…yes, that’s right. I recall now. My acquaintances mentioned that the doctor’s assistant aided him during previous treatments.
” He stepped back slightly and offered an apologetic nod.
“Forgive our intrusion. You’ve been…secluded in this castle, it seems.”
Victoria shot Innominatus a warning glance, but he did not look at her.
“Yes,” he said mildly. “Unfortunately, I’m chained to my work and do not get out as often as I would like.” The corner of his mouth twitched, as though something darker had almost surfaced, before his eyes flicked briefly toward Victoria.
“Forgive us,” the baron said, extending a hand, his smile smooth and practiced. “May I ask your name, sir?”
For the first time, Innominatus faltered.
“Innominatus Creatura,” Victoria said quickly, stepping forward before the moment could fracture further. “This is the Mr. Innominatus Creatura. Please—please forgive me for my lack of introduction.”
Unnamed Creature. A small, traitorous warmth stirred in her chest at the name. Her father had chosen it once, shaped it with intention, as though even then he had known the weight of naming something that should not exist.
“Bezymyannoye Sushchéstvo,” he echoed softly, a quiet laugh threading through the words. Unnamed creature. The sound of it seemed to please him more in his native tongue, as if the truth rang truer there.
“Innominatus,” Wilhelm said, narrowing his gaze. “That accent—Russian, is it? Faint but unmistakable. Have you been in Germany long?”
“Lang genug,” Innominatus replied in flawless German. Long enough.
The baron shifted, clearly unsettled by the sudden presence in the room.
“Yes, well. I can see you are a busy man. We will not intrude further.” He turned toward the door, already ushering Wilhelm back.
“Give our regards to your father, Victoria. We hope he is well enough to attend the ball on the twentieth.”
“Oh, I’m not certain he will be able to,” Victoria stammered, her hand tightening on the door as she pulled it inward, instinctively shielding Innominatus from further scrutiny.
The baron paused. “Then I expect to see the two of you there.”
“Not together, of course,” Wilhelm added smoothly, stepping closer. “Victoria, I’ve missed our carriage rides.”
He spoke to her—but his eyes never left Innominatus.
“Have you?” Victoria asked flatly.
Wilhelm’s smile tilted, preparing its usual cruelty, but she cut him off.
“You left me to walk home alone through the winter forest,” she said, her voice sharp now. “I was nearly chased by wolves.”
The baron grunted and Wilhelm’s expression faltered only briefly. “I’ve always admired your strength. There are so few women like you.”
The air shifted, as did something in Wilhelm’s face.
Victoria realized that Innominatus had stepped closer, his presence settling behind her like a closing door. His voice came low and even, vibrating through her chest and into her lower stomach where it tickled and teased.
“Do not trouble yourself,” he said. “The wolves no longer follow her home.” A pause. Deliberate and pointed. “They have learned there are worse things waiting in the dark around this castle.”
Wilhelm stiffened, then turned sharply and followed his father toward the waiting carriage.
Victoria closed the door and leaned against it, breath leaving her all at once as her knees threatened to give way.
“The Unnamed Creature,” Innominatus said behind her, contemplative. “Convenit ei quod sum. It suits what I am.”
She turned, frowning slightly. “You speak Latin. Russian. German. How many languages do you speak?”
“Plus linguas quam oportet,” he answered quietly. More than I ought to.