My Clockwork Muse by D.R. Erickson Page A

and under-girded with heavy, swollen bags. The
darkness of the shadow thrown over my eyes by my too-thick brow was
exaggerated by the ghastly pallor of my flesh. I am not given to
characterizing my appearance as a rule, but when my eye first fell
upon my countenance in the mirror, I was shocked to see such a
haunted man looking back at me.
    "You're not looking good, Eddy."
    As I ran my razor under my chin, I saw that
Tap had perched on my shoulder. He leaned forward and gazed into
the mirror as if I had gotten it out solely for the pleasure of
admiring his face in it.
    "Ouch!" I jerked back when the razor bit into
my neck. "Do you want me to cut my own throat?"
    "If I wanted you to cut your own throat, I'd
leave you alone and let you do it."
    "Now there's an idea," I said.
    Ignoring the raven, I worked carefully around
Pluto's claw marks. Then I remembered the wound on my neck and
pulled down my collar. It was as Gessler had said: a single round
hole surrounded by a ring of rather angry swollen flesh. I daubed
it with a cloth and a bit of soap. Originally, I had thought the
wound to be a product of one of Pluto's claws, but now I had my
doubts. Unless he had only a single claw on one of his paws, I
didn't see how he could have caused such a singular wound without
at least a few attendant scratches or additional punctures of
various depths accompanying it. This one was solitary, deep and
more than a little sore. I had no idea what it could be.
    Except...
    I remembered seeing something similar on
Virginia's throat before she died. At first, I had taken it to be a
bug bite of some sort. Perhaps some large mosquito or overzealous
horsefly. Then, as I inspected it more closely, I saw that it had
an intentional, almost surgical, look to it and concluded that it
was probably the work of Dr. Coppelius, being some arcane attempt
at cure or comfort. In that context, it did not strike me odd as I
had grown accustomed to the doctor's mystifying and often secretive
methods. My trust in himR12 \f "Times New Roman" \s 12and in his
daughter Olimpia who usually assisted him—was implicit and
unquestioned. As Virginia's condition worsened and my fear of her
inevitable passing grew, I quickly forgot about the curious mark
and thought no more of it.
    Until now.
    I wracked my memory, hoping to see it again
in my mind's eye. But it was no good. Whether our wounds were
identical or mere coincidence, it was impossible now to tell. I set
the mirror aside and readied myself to leave.
    "You're not going out like that, are you?"
Tap asked. He had flapped from my shoulder and alighted on the
table where Gessler had set his teacup.
    I ran the damp cloth over my face and head.
It was the best I could do in the time I had to catch the train. At
least I was shaved. "I've got to get going," I said.
    "Aren't you even going to change your
clothes? How long you been wearing that get-up?"
    "No time, Tap." I looked at my watch. "Damn!"
I thrust it back into my pocket and rushed for the door.
    "I don't know what you think you're going to
find there," Tap complained as I left. Outside on the porch, I
could still hear him. "I'll just wait here then..." He was saying,
along with other choice tidbits that were thankfully lost to me as
I rushed across the overgrown lawn toward the train station to
town.
     
    ~ * * * ~
     
    The street in front of the boarding house was
deserted when I got there. I considered that a stroke of luck and
walked rapidly toward the building, hoping to slip inside before
anyone saw me. Why I should have considered that important, I did
not know. In fact, it was not until I was in the vestibule and
pushing the door closed silently behind me that I realized I had no
idea what I intended to do.
    But whatever it was, I felt like a thief
doing it.
    I turned and saw a man descending the stairs
towards me. I realized it might seem suspicious of me to just stand
at the door and wait for him to pass. So I made for the stairs
myself, ascending with a