Snowdrop (A Frankenstein Story)

Chapter 14

What happened when he fled the cottagers that taught him so much? He had run from them, heartbroken, after several blows from an angry Felix. Rossignol had loved them so much, but they reviled and feared him. Every memory of them except the last was perfect and beautiful. Despite his unrivaled fury and pain, he often wished them well. It was from them that he learned to read, write, and speak. He knew humility in the face of poverty. From the De Lacey's, his little cottagers, he learned about love and beauty. They taught him to love Georgia.

But what happened to them?

The creature had gone back to that cottage just once to find that they had abandoned the property. Their parting didn't just tear his heart, it split his soul. It was the first true taste of abandonment and it brought out the darker, wilder side of him. Where had they gone when they fled? Questions burned through his mind.

As he gazed upon the ruined view of Felix he knew that the De Lacey's met Frankenstein. But why deny his creation a mate only to turn around and destroy a family? Fury pulsed through him, he fought the urge to lash out in some way.

"Felix?" Rossignol asked once more, suppressing the trembling of his body. The sabers of his Italian guests remained poised, but they were nervous and curious about the murderous monster's connection to their charming host.

"Where is Agatha, Felix? Where is Eva?" He asked. He dreaded the answer. If the beautiful blond man with soft brown eyes was the wretch now before him, what hope was there for the rest of the family? What happened to his very first dance partner, Eva? Rossignol stood before the Italians, Sir John, and the mangled Felix, grateful that a mask hid his horror. His stomach churned violently.

"A-Agata! Agatha! Agatha!" Screeched Felix. His one eye grew wild and demented. He then began screaming as if terrified. He screeched her name several more times before saying his own name and weeping. As Rossignol watched the shadow of his former benefactor he realized that it was merely a performance. Felix was acting out Agatha's terror.

This was Frankenstein's work, Rossignol wondered why. Why had he tormented Agatha with the horror of her dead and distorted husband? But this was not her husband, this being was not Felix. This creature was something Rossignol had compared himself to in the past; this abhorrent creature was purely demonic and lacked any notion of love that Rossignol cherished.

The Italians were visibly shaken and disturbed, but none were brave enough to run their sabers through the wretched man. Rossignol turned to Sir John and his muffled voice came out with firm authority.

"Take Georgia to the apartment. Be ready to leave—"

"Gee-oh!" Screamed the marred Felix excitedly. He then lifted his bloody hand to show that the Italian girl's heart was still clutched in his fingers.

One of the men, Federico, turned and lowered his saber. The night's cocktails and h'orderves spilled out onto the marble floor. Felix hissed and sputtered.

"Gee-orgee-ah! Ha ha!" He crushed the heart, causing blood to squirt out. Felix then licked the dripping blood.

Rossignol paled beneath his mask, Felix had been sent to kill Georgia and thought himself successful. He could not fathom why his father would go through this much trouble to ruin his happiness. Were they not yet even in their misery? Was Victor so determined to see his creation entirely desolate?

"Take them," ordered Rossignol, as he grew beyond furious. Unfathomable rage surged through him. "Do whatever you must, but be gone in the hour. Let no one see her."

"He'll follow!" Cried Sir John in horror as Felix began consuming the heart he thought belonged to Georgia. "I thought there were similarities between the two of you, but he-he's a—"