said.
"Well," he said, still being evasive, knowing, she thought, that it wouldn't fool her, "naturally, in my line of work… reanimation of the… as it were… the effects of electricity on the human… such as… scientifically speaking…"
"Viktor," she said, speaking patiently, as if to a child. " Scientifi cally speaking–" She smiled at him, trying to make it a nice smile, trying to reassure him. He was a nervous little man, afraid of crowds, torches, pitchforks and milk. "You have, haven't you?"
He didn't answer. She moved closer to him, towering over him, knowing the effect she had on him and using it. "Viktor, Viktor," she said. "My poor little Viktor…"
"Milady, I…"
She ruffled his hair. He whimpered. "What are you trying to tell me, Viktor?"
"The… the tissues… you see, they're –" then, with more force – "I can't," he said. "Council business, Milady. It's Council business!"
"Out there," she said, "in the dark streets, out there in the night few dare to walk – out there I am the Council, Viktor."
She looked down at him, then at his workbench. On the tabletop – was it flesh, a fold of skin? Grey and sickly – and moving. She listened back to what he said. "The effects of electricity on the human body," she said.
He looked up at her, his eyes bright. Dying to tell her, she thought. "I know the effects of electricity on the human body," she said. "It does not make a man walk again, or open his eyes and point with a dead finger. It does the opposite. It kills."
"My research indicates a high probability of eventual re–" he said but didn't finish. She smiled at him. "Is this it?" she said, pointing at the grey matter.
"This? Oh, this is just a–"
"Electricity does not do that to the human body," she said. "Am I correct, Viktor?"
His fingers, interlacing, releasing, tapping air.
"But what if the body is no longer human?" she said, and he jumped.
"More coffee?" she said.
"Thank you," he said. "I think I've drunk enough."
"You are tightly wound up," she said. "Perhaps you need a rest. I know a castle–"
"Please," he said, raising his hands before him like a shield. "No more castles."
"Yes," she said. "I too find them overrated."
"It's the draught," he said. "And the heating bill's always enormous."
"Tell me about that body, Viktor. You have seen such a thing before, haven't you? I know you have. You want to tell me about it, don't you? You don't want me to get hurt , do you, Viktor? You don't–"
"Please," he said, and she knew he was hers. "Show me," she said.
He took her to the far side of the cavern. Past the cages again, and turning her eyes away from the figures inside. Viktor's experiments, following from the works of–
No. She walked past and they came to a large metal door set into the rock. The under-morgue proper. When she put her hand to the door the metal was cold to the touch. Viktor played with a pad by the door and it opened with a faint hiss. Tendrils of fog ebbed out, as if reaching for them.
"Follow me."
She did. They went inside. Ice-cold, steel walls, icicles hanging
like nooses from the ceiling. Inside: rows of metal cabinets pulled open, holding corpses in various stages of decomposition on their trays. Men, one woman, two children. The children looked almost identical, a boy and a girl with chinawhite skin turning grey.
Viktor looked expectant. Waiting for her to make a connection… It took her a moment but the colour began to dominate her view and she said, "Grey."
He said, "Yes."
She came closer, examined the hand of the boy. The grey had spread down his arm, in patches, looking oily, looking… she wasn't sure. She reached to touch it and Viktor's hand held her back. "Don't," he said.
He went to a table laden with instruments and returned with a prod. When he pressed the little trigger a burst of blue electricity sparked at the
"Well," he said, still being evasive, knowing, she thought, that it wouldn't fool her, "naturally, in my line of work… reanimation of the… as it were… the effects of electricity on the human… such as… scientifically speaking…"
"Viktor," she said, speaking patiently, as if to a child. " Scientifi cally speaking–" She smiled at him, trying to make it a nice smile, trying to reassure him. He was a nervous little man, afraid of crowds, torches, pitchforks and milk. "You have, haven't you?"
He didn't answer. She moved closer to him, towering over him, knowing the effect she had on him and using it. "Viktor, Viktor," she said. "My poor little Viktor…"
"Milady, I…"
She ruffled his hair. He whimpered. "What are you trying to tell me, Viktor?"
"The… the tissues… you see, they're –" then, with more force – "I can't," he said. "Council business, Milady. It's Council business!"
"Out there," she said, "in the dark streets, out there in the night few dare to walk – out there I am the Council, Viktor."
She looked down at him, then at his workbench. On the tabletop – was it flesh, a fold of skin? Grey and sickly – and moving. She listened back to what he said. "The effects of electricity on the human body," she said.
He looked up at her, his eyes bright. Dying to tell her, she thought. "I know the effects of electricity on the human body," she said. "It does not make a man walk again, or open his eyes and point with a dead finger. It does the opposite. It kills."
"My research indicates a high probability of eventual re–" he said but didn't finish. She smiled at him. "Is this it?" she said, pointing at the grey matter.
"This? Oh, this is just a–"
"Electricity does not do that to the human body," she said. "Am I correct, Viktor?"
His fingers, interlacing, releasing, tapping air.
"But what if the body is no longer human?" she said, and he jumped.
"More coffee?" she said.
"Thank you," he said. "I think I've drunk enough."
"You are tightly wound up," she said. "Perhaps you need a rest. I know a castle–"
"Please," he said, raising his hands before him like a shield. "No more castles."
"Yes," she said. "I too find them overrated."
"It's the draught," he said. "And the heating bill's always enormous."
"Tell me about that body, Viktor. You have seen such a thing before, haven't you? I know you have. You want to tell me about it, don't you? You don't want me to get hurt , do you, Viktor? You don't–"
"Please," he said, and she knew he was hers. "Show me," she said.
He took her to the far side of the cavern. Past the cages again, and turning her eyes away from the figures inside. Viktor's experiments, following from the works of–
No. She walked past and they came to a large metal door set into the rock. The under-morgue proper. When she put her hand to the door the metal was cold to the touch. Viktor played with a pad by the door and it opened with a faint hiss. Tendrils of fog ebbed out, as if reaching for them.
"Follow me."
She did. They went inside. Ice-cold, steel walls, icicles hanging
like nooses from the ceiling. Inside: rows of metal cabinets pulled open, holding corpses in various stages of decomposition on their trays. Men, one woman, two children. The children looked almost identical, a boy and a girl with chinawhite skin turning grey.
Viktor looked expectant. Waiting for her to make a connection… It took her a moment but the colour began to dominate her view and she said, "Grey."
He said, "Yes."
She came closer, examined the hand of the boy. The grey had spread down his arm, in patches, looking oily, looking… she wasn't sure. She reached to touch it and Viktor's hand held her back. "Don't," he said.
He went to a table laden with instruments and returned with a prod. When he pressed the little trigger a burst of blue electricity sparked at the
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