Chapter 7

On my return, I found this letter from my dad: - "My dear Victor, "You’ve probably been waiting for a letter to nail down your return date, and I almost just wrote a quick note saying when I’d expect you. But that would be a mean thing to do, and I can’t.

What would you think, my son, if you were expecting a happy welcome and instead saw tears and sadness? And how can I even tell you what’s happened? Being away hasn’t made you totally numb to our good times and bad, and how do I break your heart?

"I want to get you ready for the bad news, but I know it’s impossible. Even now, your eyes are probably scanning the page, looking for the words that will tell you the awful truth. "William is gone! - that sweet kid, whose smiles always made me feel good, who was so gentle but also so full of life!

Victor, he’s been murdered! "I’m not going to try to make you feel better; I’m just going to tell you what happened. "Last Thursday (May seventh), I, my niece, and your two brothers went for a walk in Plainpalais. The evening was nice and calm, so we walked farther than usual.

It was already getting dark when we realized William and Ernest were missing. We sat on a bench waiting for them to come back. Soon Ernest showed up and asked if we’d seen his brother. He said he’s been playing with William, and William ran off to hide.

"Ernest looked everywhere for him and waited a long time, but he never came back."

"This story seriously freaked us out, and we kept searching for him until night. Elizabeth guessed he might’ve gone back to the house. He wasn't there. We went back again, with torches; I couldn't chill thinking my sweet boy was lost and out in the cold all night. Elizabeth was super upset too."

"Around five in the morning, I found my amazing boy - the night before I’d seen him healthy and full of energy - lying on the grass, pale and still. There was a mark on his neck, like the killer’s finger. "We took him home, and the look on my face gave it away to Elizabeth.

"She really wanted to see him. I tried to stop her at first, but she kept pushing, and when she went into the room where he was, she quickly checked his neck, then clutched her hands and cried out, ‘Oh God! I killed my baby! "She passed out, and it was a struggle to bring her back.

When she woke up, she just kept crying and sighing. She told me that earlier that evening, William had bugged her to let him wear a really valuable miniature of my mom. That picture is gone, and it probably tempted the killer.

We haven’t found any clues about him yet, even though we’re working non-stop, but it won’t bring back my beloved William! "Come on, dearest Victor; you're the only one who can comfort Elizabeth. She’s been crying nonstop and blaming herself for his death; her words break my heart."

"We’re all messed up; but will that give you even more reason, my son, to come back and be our rock? Your dear mom! Ugh, Victor! I’m saying it now, thank goodness she didn’t live to see my youngest darling die such a cruel, awful death!"

Come on, Victor; ditch the revenge stuff about the killer, and bring some peace and kindness. It’s gonna heal us, not make things worse. Head into the house of mourning, my friend, but with love and affection for the people who care about you, not with hate for your enemies.

"Your loving, heartbroken dad, "Alphonse Frankenstein. "Geneva, May twelfth, seventeen - . Clerval, who’s been watching my face while I read this letter, was shocked to see the despair that followed the joy I first felt getting news from my friends."

I tossed the letter on the table and covered my face with my hands. "My dear Frankenstein," Henry said, noticing me crying so hard, "are you always gonna be like this? Seriously, what’s up? I gestured for him to read the letter, while I paced around the room, totally freaking out.

Tears welled up in Clerval’s eyes, too, as he read about what happened. "I don’t know what to say, my friend," he said. "This is... it’s a total disaster. What are you gonna do? "I’m heading to Geneva, ASAP. Come with me, Henry, let’s get the horses."

While we walked, Clerval tried to offer some comfort, but he could only really express how sorry he was. Poor William! he said. Such a sweet kid, he’s with his mom now! Anyone who saw him, so happy and full of life, would have cried over his loss! To die like that; to feel a killer’s hand!

It’s even worse to destroy someone so innocent! Poor little guy! The only thing that helps is that his friends are mourning and crying, but he’s finally at peace. The pain is over, his suffering is done for good. Dirt covers his gentle body, and he feels nothing.

"He doesn’t need our pity anymore; we need to save it for those of us who are left."

Clerval was saying this as we rushed through the streets; his words really stuck with me, and I remembered them later when I was alone. But when the horses showed up, I jumped into a cab and said goodbye to my friend. My trip was super bummed.

At first, I wanted to speed things up - I was dying to comfort and support my friends, who were so sad. But as I got closer to my hometown, I slowed down. I couldn't handle all the feelings swirling around in my head.

I passed places I knew from when I was younger, but it had been almost six years since I’d seen them. So much could have changed! One big, awful thing had already happened, but tons of little things could have shifted things too, even if it was gradual. It was still a huge deal.

I was freaked out; I didn't want to move forward, scared of a bunch of unknown worries that made me shake, even though I couldn't put my finger on them. I chilled in Lausanne for two days, feeling totally down.

I looked at the lake - the water was calm, everything was peaceful, and the snowy mountains, like, "nature’s palaces," hadn't changed a bit. Slowly, the calm and beautiful scene started to make me feel better, and I kept going towards Geneva.

"The road ran alongside the lake, which got smaller as I got closer to my hometown. I could see the dark sides of Jura more clearly, and the bright top of Mont Blanc. I cried like a little kid. "Dear mountains! My own beautiful lake! What's it like to see your wanderer again?

"Your peaks are clear; the sky and lake are blue and peaceful. Is this a sign of good things, or are you just making fun of my sadness?"

Seriously, I don’t want to bore you by going on and on about all this backstory, but those were actually pretty chill times, and I think about them with a smile. My country, my amazing country!

Who gets it like a local does, seeing those rivers, those mountains, and especially that gorgeous lake again? But as I got closer to home, I got hit with some serious grief and fear. Plus, it got totally dark. I could barely make out the mountains in the gloom, and I felt even worse.

It looked like a huge, blurry mess of bad vibes, and I just knew I was gonna become the unluckiest person ever. Ugh, I was right, but I totally underestimated how much pain I was about to go through. Like, not even close.

It was pitch black when I rolled into Geneva; the town gates were already locked. So, I had to crash at Secheron, which is like half a mile from the city. The sky was clear, and I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to check out the spot where my poor William was killed.

I couldn’t go through the town, so I had to take a boat across the lake to get to Plainpalais. During that short trip, I saw lightning dancing on Mont Blanc - it was unreal. The storm looked like it was coming fast, and when I got to shore, I climbed a little hill so I could see what was up.

It was moving in; the sky was covered, and then the rain started, slow at first, then it got intense.

I ditched my seat and kept walking, even though the darkness and storm were getting worse every minute. Thunder crashed right over my head - seriously loud. It bounced off Salêve, the Juras, and the Alps of Savoy. Bright flashes of lightning lit up the lake, making it look like a huge sheet of fire.

Then, everything went pitch black for a second, until my eyes got used to it. The storm was everywhere, like it often is in Switzerland. The wildest part was right over town, above the part of the lake between Belrive and Copêt. Faint flashes lit up Jura.

Another storm messed with the view of Môle, that pointy mountain to the east.

I watched the storm - so beautiful, but seriously intense - and kept moving, kinda rushing. Seeing that crazy battle in the sky totally lifted my mood. I clasped my hands and yelled, "William, my angel! This is your funeral, your goodbye song!"

Then, in the darkness, I saw someone sneak out from behind some trees. I froze, staring hard - there was no mistaking it. A flash of lightning showed me what it was: this huge, messed-up figure, way more terrifying than anything human.

It was him - that creep, that disgusting demon I’d brought to life. What was he doing there? Could he have (I shuddered just thinking it) killed my brother? The thought hit me, and I knew it was true. My teeth started chattering, and I had to lean against a tree to stay upright.

He zipped past me, disappearing into the shadows. No human could’ve hurt my brother. It had to be him! The thought alone was proof. I wanted to chase after the devil, but another flash showed him clinging to the rocks on Mont Salêve, this crazy steep hill south of Plainpalais.

He made it to the top and vanished. I just stood there. The thunder stopped, but the rain kept coming down, and everything was pitch black. I kept replaying the stuff I’d been trying to forget: my whole journey creating him, seeing my creation next to my bed, and then it leaving.

Almost two years had passed since he first came to life - and was this his first crime? Ugh! I’d unleashed a seriously messed-up dude into the world, someone who got off on killing and making people miserable. Had he murdered my brother?

I can’t even describe how rough the rest of the night was for me - I was out in the cold and rain. But honestly, the weather wasn’t even the worst part. My mind was totally spiraling with horrible, depressing stuff.

I kept thinking about the creature I’d brought into the world, the one I’d given the power and drive to do seriously messed-up things, like what he’d just done. It felt like my own vampire, my own spirit unleashed from the grave, forced to destroy everything I cared about.

Daylight finally came, and I headed towards town. The gates were open, so I rushed to my dad’s place. My first thought was to find out everything I could about the killer and get a chase going, ASAP. But then I stopped to think about the story I’d have to tell.

A being I created, brought to life by me, had shown up in the middle of the night on a mountain - impossible! I also remembered that crazy fever I had right when I made him, which would make my story sound totally insane. Seriously, if anyone told me that, I’d think they were losing it.

Plus, this thing was so weird, no one would even believe me, let alone chase it. And even if they did, what good would it do? Who could catch something that could climb the sides of Mont Salêve? Those thoughts made up my mind. I decided to keep quiet.

It was around five in the morning when I got to my dad’s house. I told the staff not to wake the family and went to the library, figuring that’s when they’d all be getting up.

Six years had flown by, a blur except for one memory that stuck with me. I stood in the same spot where I’d last hugged my dad before heading off to Ingolstadt. Beloved and respected parent! He was still here. I looked at Mom’s picture over the fireplace.

It was a formal portrait, painted at my dad’s request, showing Caroline Beaufort in a total breakdown, kneeling by her dad’s coffin. Her clothes were simple, and her face was pale, but she had this air of dignity and beauty that made it hard to feel sorry for her.

Below that was a tiny picture of William. Tears welled up when I looked at it. Just then, Ernest came in. He’d heard me arrive and rushed to greet me. Hey, Victor! he said. Wish you’d come three months ago - we would’ve been so happy. Now you’re coming to share in a sadness that nothing can fix.

"But I hope you’ll cheer up our dad, who’s been fading since it happened. And maybe you can convince poor Elizabeth to stop blaming herself. He paused. "Poor William! He was our favorite, our pride. Ernest’s eyes filled with tears; a wave of pain hit me.

Before, I’d just imagined how awful things were at home. The reality of it was a whole new disaster. I tried to comfort Ernest and asked him to tell me more about my dad and my cousin. "She’s the one who needs comfort the most," Ernest said.

"She’s been blaming herself for William’s death, which made her super upset. But now that the murderer’s been found - " "The murderer’s been found? Seriously? How is that even possible? Who tried to chase him? It's impossible - like trying to catch the wind or block a river with a straw."

"I saw him last night! He was free!"

"I don’t get what you’re saying," my brother said, sounding totally bewildered. "But this discovery we’re making just makes everything worse. Nobody’s gonna believe it at first, and even now Elizabeth won't be convinced, even with all the proof."

"Seriously, who’s gonna buy that Justine Moritz, who was so sweet and loved our family, could suddenly do something so messed up, so terrifying? "Justine Moritz? Poor thing, is she the one accused? But it’s totally bogus; everyone knows it. Nobody believes it, right, Ernest?"

"Nobody did at first, but some stuff came out that pretty much forced people to think she’s guilty. And her behavior has been so all over the place, it just adds to the evidence. I’m afraid there’s no way out of it. But she’s going to trial today, and you’ll hear everything then."

He then told me that, the morning William was found, Justine had been sick and stuck in bed for days. During that time, a servant looking through her clothes found the picture of my mom, which they figured was what tempted the killer.

The servant showed it to another one, who didn't tell anyone in the family, and went straight to a magistrate. Based on their story, Justine was arrested. When they accused her, the poor girl basically confirmed the suspicion with how confused she was. That was a wild story, but I wasn't buying it.

I said seriously, "You’ve got it all wrong; I know who the killer is. Justine, poor, good Justine, is innocent."

My dad walked in just then. I could tell he was bummed, but he tried to be cheerful anyway. After a sad little hello, he wanted to talk about something else, but Ernest blurted out, "Seriously, Dad! Victor’s saying he knows who killed poor William. "Yeah, we do," my dad sighed.

"Honestly, I wish I hadn’t found out. It’s awful to see how messed up and ungrateful someone I cared about could be. "Dad, you’ve got it wrong. Justine’s innocent. "If she is, I hope she doesn’t get punished like she’s guilty. Her trial’s today, and I really hope she gets off."

That calmed me down a bit. I was totally sure in my head that Justine - and really, everyone - wasn’t to blame for this. I didn’t think any evidence could be strong enough to prove her guilty. My story was way too wild to share; people would think I was crazy.

Who, besides me - the creator - would believe something like this unless they saw it with their own eyes? It was about the living, breathing result of my own arrogance and recklessness, unleashed on the world.

Elizabeth showed up soon after. Time had changed her - she was even lovelier than she was as a kid. She had the same honesty and energy, but now there was also a deeper sense of feeling and smarts. She greeted me with so much affection.

"Your arrival, my dear cousin," she said, "gives me so much hope. Maybe you’ll find a way to prove my poor, innocent Justine isnn't guilty. Seriously, who’s safe if she’s convicted of a crime? I’m as sure of her innocence as I am of my own."

"It’s a double whammy for us; we’ve lost that sweet boy, and now this girl I really care about is about to face something even worse. If she’s condemned, I’ll never be happy again. But she won’t be, I know she won’t, and then I’ll be okay again, even after losing my little William."

"She’s innocent, Elizabeth," I said, "and I’m going to prove it. Don’t worry, just stay positive about her getting off." "You’re so kind and generous! Everyone else thinks she’s guilty, and that made me feel awful because I know she’s not."

"Seeing everyone else so convinced just made me lose hope and feel totally down. She started crying. "My dear niece," my father said, "stop crying. If she’s as innocent as you believe, trust in our laws and know that I’ll do everything I can to make sure things are fair."