Fire tore at her belly, bursting through her flesh. Molten metal lodged inside Elizabeth’s unwilling body. Victor held the smoking gun, face as neutral as she’d come to expect once his true colors were revealed. She’d placed herself between the artist and his work of art, the guileless and gentle giant who’d come here in askance of a single boon: companionship, so that he might not pass his troubled existence alone. God made for Adam, an Eve. And yet, Victor was as far from a benevolent creator as the man behind her was from a king.
She felt herself crumple to the floor as her lifeblood flowed over her white wedding gown, spreading across the carpet in a widening circle. Everything began to feel muffled as the pain overrode her senses and the sharp cold of impending doom coursed through her body. There was a roar, and fighting. Sharp noises of struggle and injury and death. Elizabeth revived just enough to see him there, compassion and love in his eyes, his unfiltered emotions plainly written upon his countenance.
She’d longed for nothing so much as to encounter him once more after their erstwhile meetings in his dank, shadowy holding cell in the belly of that lonely tower. The leaf he’d gifted to her so innocently remained carefully preserved as a bookmark and constant reminder of the wonder and glory of God’s creation. And yet here and now she beheld him even as she teetered on the precipice of life and death.
“Take me with you…” Elizabeth beseeched in a whisper. She’d never loved William. Guided by her faith, her unwise flirtations with Victor met an early demise. Other than God Himself, this sweet soul dragged back from the sum of a ruined battlefield held her heart. He didn’t hesitate. His arms delicately folded about her, raising her from the unyielding ground into the most welcoming embrace she’d ever experienced.
Elizabeth’s awareness floated in and out of the twilight of death as she was carried down a maze of hazy streets. She heard Victor somewhere in the distance, yet the one bearing her broken body was much faster. He carefully shifted her to one strong arm as he pounded on a door with the other. The portal opened on creaking hinges and she heard gasps and muffled screams. There was an exchange between her companion and whosoever resided in the building. At length they were admitted and the winter evening was shut out. She was laid carefully upon a hard table. The last thing she saw before the chloroform-soaked cloth covered her face was an older man with a doctor’s bag and an expression of commingled terror and determination to complete his duty. Beyond him, the anxious eyes of the adoring being were fixed upon her.
Victor’s creation kept vigil over Elizabeth’s pale form, unceasing in his preparations. They inhabited a cave far from town, and he’d built a smokeless fire the way he’d learned from observing the hunters in days past. He knew he needed to keep her warm, and that she would require sustenance in order to heal. Winter was a time of starvation, yet he counted among his friends many creatures who stocked provisions for the long, cold dark. They spoke to him of the hard to reach places where he might find root vegetables, the locations of the icy lakes where he could catch living fish crystallized in a state of torpor. These he carefully stored in anticipation of the awakening of his precious one. He melted the snow, soaked a cloth the way the doctor had instructed, and placed this carefully in her cheek so that she might drink in her sleep without choking.
Days passed in this manner, with him worrying over each minute detail, piling blankets he’d been given by the surgeon atop her and around her, adjusting her for comfort, listening to her quiet breathing, tending the fire. Like Jesus of whom the being was wholly ignorant, she stirred on the third day. When he heard the soft moan indicating a return to consciousness, he sprang to her side anxiously. Elizabeth’s eyes opened, and she beheld the one she’d yearned to reunite with for so long.
“I live,” she stated weakly. She struggled to free her hand from the swaddling cloth. Noticing this he gently assisted, holding her arm as if it were made of glass. This stirred a profound, unnamed emotion and surprising eagerness within her. She had no care for where they were, only that he was there. She reached up to stroke his cheek. “You saved me.” He shook his head, an ache in his voice as he replied.
“You saved me first.”
“Then we are duty bound to each other now.” His soulful eyes were filled with questions and uncertainty. He remained silent as he reflected on her words. She waited and watched, the entirety of his ruminations plainly on display.
“Yes.” It was such a simple utterance, and yet here and now, it held infinite meaning: the entirety of the being’s world and experience.
“After the surgeon removed the bullet and cauterized your wound,” he slowly intoned, “I took you from that place fearing retribution for my existence.” Elizabeth’s face fell, eyes moist with unshed tears at the thought that this pure creature before her was so hated for nothing more than his exterior which was to her an exquisite example of God’s divine symmetry. “I did not want you to come to further harm on my behalf.” The regret flickered across his features as he glanced down to her side where her body was slowly repairing itself.
“What of Victor?” she asked quietly, sitting upright.
“I lost him in the alleyways. He was slow to follow. I’d passed the hospital during my search to find him when I first came to the city. I did not know the way, but somehow I was able to find it again even in my desperate state.” Her hand reached for his and was entirely engulfed by the whitish-blue skin. “I demanded they render aid to you. They were terrified of me, but when they realized you were in a wedding dress and dying, the old man took pity and risked my nearness in order to call you back from the brink.” He patted her hand. “The old man said that he could not live with himself if he let one as beautiful as you become the bride of the reaper.”
Elizabeth quietly processed his words. Unlike the men of the aristocracy, he was comfortable in silence and waited patiently. At last she recalled her circumstances long enough to inquire, “And what of William?” His brow furrowed as he repeated the name. “You saw him at the tower. Fair hair and slight of build—”
“William.” He tried the appellation on his tongue. “He attacked me.” She gasped. “I defended myself. I believe he is dead. I did not stay to check. I was worried about you, and it was time for me to go. Many men were arriving.” A few bewildering tears fell hotly to her cool cheeks. The being Victor created saw them and reached out to brush them away. He did not demand she stop crying the way other men did, and that simple kindness made her sob. His face distorted in agony over her pain. “I am sorry Elizabeth. I did not mean—”
“No, no,” she said quickly, “Do not apologize. I am crying because—” She choked as her throat constricted. Never in her life had she been so carefully considered and cared for.
She suddenly found herself in a tender embrace. His massive arms curled around her twice over but he was mindful not to jostle her lest her wound reopen. He said nothing and held her. Thus entwined, Elizabeth felt her sins absolved by his sweetness, the wrongs of the world itself somehow righted in this moment. Everything else fell away, and she knew that she would never leave his side.