Page 18 of Adam, Mine

The thought soothed him as he planned.

Victor wasn’t a fan of wine, but his landlady was. He sought a lovely drink for her, mid-price and imported, dark red. But for Elias, his beloved experiment, he chose wiser.

A beautiful bottle, clear and uniquely shaped, a strawberry and lemon on the label, sweet already but not thick and cloying.

Phosphoric acid would mask the additional sugar Victor planned to add. A brilliance of chemistry that would turn this cordial into a poison suited for one.

Victor’s landlady took his apologies about missing dinner with her poorly. She rushed to his side when he finally walked in, fluttering about in a way that reminded him of his own mother. His landlady pinched his cheek as she took her gift. Victor brought the other bottle upstairs and settled in to write a letter to accompany it.

He sealed the envelope, signed the back, and hurried to bed.

But still, he dreamed. Of brown eyes and blunt-cut hair, hands thin but strong.

The edge of a blade lit by candlelight.

Elias’s last grin at his expense.

The cloying sweetness of implication.

The bitterness of contract.

Hark

Animal testing was working well. This coma spell tired him only a bit, and his vitality returned the moment his subjects were extinguished. There was something going on with that, but it didn’t seem to be permanent, so he didn’t worry much about it.

He felt more confident in this plan than in any of his others. So Victor turned his focus to preparation: nailing his restraints to the wood table, thick leather and steel, adding an additional lock on the basement door so it could be barred from either side.

He scheduled to borrow a horse to help carry the body and packed a cloak and hat of a different color if he needed to swiftly change descriptions to escape the authorities.

Every day felt brighter and easier the closer that graduation came. Even speaking with his classmates came to him with ease, and they seemed to warm to him in these twilight hours.

Only Gregor brought up his wild assertions with a sneer, but Victor brushed it off, assuring him that all would be well and he should focus on saving his money to pay his debts on their bet.

Gregor wasn’t pleased to hear that, but Petyr always clamped a firm hand on Gregor’s shoulder or arm and shot Victor a long-suffering grin.

Perhaps Victor would ask Petyr to work for him when the time came. As a gift for understanding Victor’s worth early. It would burn a proud man like Petyr to be so indebted.

The two days before graduation came swiftly. Victor rushed home before the sun had set.

His landlady had been gone for a single night, and the staff had begun to relax in her absence. Victor didn’t have the authority to command them to clean for guests, so he sent them home and anxiously scrubbed the empty house himself.

He set the table with wineglasses and holly and placed brushes of pine beneath each sconce and candle until the house smelled fresh.

He scoured the lab until it gleamed, removed all jars and tinctures and samples. Brought a lamp to the table for extra light, prepared his cleanest lab jacket, gloves, and goggles and put them to the side. Then he took a tour through the house. Opened the front door and walked through the property as if he were a guest: champagne chilled, rooms smelling of warming spices and winter trees, followed a candlelight path down to the basement into Victor’s lair. His brilliance lit up by electric lamp, the surgical table bathed in spotlight.

He was ready.

Flush

The journey to town didn’t feel long on horseback. The trees on either side were dark and unfamiliar, but he had nothing bandits would want so he rode with confidence.

Victor left his horse in the public stables and headed straight for the tavern, borrowed lantern in hand.

To his surprise, both Magda and Elias weren’t working this night. Instead, there was an older man at the counter. He took the lantern from Victor and pointed him to the edge of town where Elias lived instead.

Victor suppressed a shiver and left quickly.

The home was a bit far from the rest of the town, on a hill thick with trees. It was a cottage, unlike the kind you would find in the city, and it was clear that Elias’s family was blessed. The walls were thick lumber; their door had real glass. There was a swing, handmade and well loved, in the tree by the front door.