The Eternal Guest

7.

Dr. Emrrick appeared to be waiting for me when I came down. His chair was poised toward the open door of his study, so he could keep an eye and the grand staircase even as he labored over his notes.

"Ah," he said, looking up, letting the staccato syllable land like an exclamation mark. "You're awake. Shall we go?"

I gave a stiff nod, although to be honest, I had been looking forward to some food first. My dream-filled sleep had left my body drawn, and my mind shrouded in a fog. Nourishment seemed in order, but since I'd been the one to insist on getting this done and over with, I followed him.

We headed toward the rear of the house. The rooms back there were dedicated to mundane purposes and held no scientific equipment whatsoever, so I asked, "Where is your lab, Doctor?"

He motioned with a vague gesture to someplace up and to his right. "I have a space on the third floor, but we're not going there. What I have to show you is out of doors. But first, we need to fetch something from the kitchen."

"Outdoors? That is most peculiar. Is your work not with tissue regeneration? Have you switched your study to horticulture or forestry?" The conservatory, with its host of non-native plants, and the estate's extensive gardens took on new weight.

"Please, no questions. Not yet. Allow an old man his theatrics. After all, it is rare that I shall have the opportunity to unveil my discovery to such a learned and diligent peer. I dare say, even you will have a hard time finding fault with my results. Your meticulous and pedantic criticisms will find no purchase this time, I assure you."

We arrived in the kitchen, and the doctor went straight to the dread larder with its array of butchery. When I did not follow, he waved me in and said, "Give me a hand here."

"Is this really necessary?"

"Yes." But when I refused again, he did not push the matter.

The noise of vigorous activity reached me while I stood at a distance and covered my nose with a handkerchief. But I could make out no sign of the doctor from the depths of the ice fog. Finally, he thrust a bucket out and indicated I should take it. It was filled to the brim with raw meat. A glistening cow's liver blanketed the contents, taking on the muted shape of the cuts beneath. The stench was strong and pure, thick with iron and a barnyard musk. I nearly dropped it, feeling the full revulsion of being presented with the very thing I had been hoping to avoid.

However, my disgust was outweighed by the horror that drew upon me when I felt my empty stomach growl and my appetite whet at the repellent odor.

"What are you playing at?" I demanded. "Is this some sort of joke?"

He stepped out of the larder with a bucket of his own. "Not at all. It's time to feed my pets. I shall explain along the way."

"What on Earth? Have you been experimenting on...on..." I glanced at the mass of meat I carried. "Lions?"

He chuckled at this. "Nothing so exotic. Come."

We exited through the backdoor and followed a gravel drive used for deliveries until we reached a beaten path over the lawn. The night was clear, and the moon lit our way. Its gentle light gave the grass a metallic sheen and painted the shrubbery in ethereal white. We struggled with our loads through the gardens taking a path Emrick called a shortcut.

I grew perturbed when we passed the fountain from my dream in all it's mossy green splendor. It had not been a mere figment, after all. I must have spotted it from a window earlier in my visit and forgotten.

Emrick unlocked one of the iron gates that shut the gardens off from the outside world, and we continued on in the unmistakable direction of the woods.

"First off, let's clear some things up." Emrick slowed his steps and drew alongside me. "I have won, and you have lost. The only reason you are here at Foxcroft is so I can revel in my victory. Oh, don't look so surprised. When have we ever been friends? We have only ever been rivals, Richard. But no more. Tonight you will find the nature of our relationship has vastly changed."

His tone was filled with cruelty, and he spat out his words, relishing my dismay. But he was correct: we had never been friends, although for my part, I had felt a comradery with him as I did with all in our field. Had he taken my responses to his findings personally? It was hardly my fault if he was sloppy with his research and prone to leaping to unfounded conclusions.

"You see, my dear fellow, your work is over, for I have found the cure."

I couldn't help but scoff a little at this. "A cure for what exactly?" What had Emrick been spending his time on? Mange? Root rot? We were at the eaves of the woods, and the thought that he had anything worth seeing out here was preposterous.

"The Cure," he answered with a dramatic flourish. "The only one that matters. I have found a way to reverse death itself." His face was bright from his gloating.

"You're mad," I laughed. "Even if your work on electrical stimuli held any promise—which it does not—your own hypothesis indicates only the possibility of small scale tissue reanimation."

"What was it you called me? A third-rate scientist playing at being Dr. Frankenstein? Ah, I'll give you that. Electricity was the wrong route, but there are other forces in this world. And the next."

This caused me to let out a derisive bark. It rang through the forest and seemed to silence the night animals.

"Life is a state to be prolonged, not recalled once it's passed," I said. "Anatomy is not subject to the rules of your seances and Ouija games."

"The little you know. I have titled my spear at Death, and Death has fallen. Oh, I know you don't believe me." His expression twisted with malice, and his mouth became a red rent across his face. "But you have already seen the proof with your own eyes."

He glared at me a moment before digging the knife in deeper. "Have you not repeatedly begged me to have Vernon search for her? But why should we search, when she is right where she belongs?"