We stopped only to refresh the horses. My surly driver—in English I could barely understand despite my extensive study of the language—insisted he did not usually conduct women places in the middle of the night. I promised him more than generous compensation, which notably improved his mood.

We made good time. The countryside here, lit by the light of the moon, was all gentle hills. I missed the security of mountains, the solid and jagged definition of the horizon. Here, the hills rolled on until darkness- or distance-obscured. I felt exposed and unprotected. Perhaps that explained the military aggression of this tiny island country: they could never feel the edges of their land, so they pushed forever outward.

I had lost so much time preparing to chase Victor. The bulk of my journey here—down rivers and across the continent until I found a boat to take me up the coast to Scotland—had taken a fortnight. A fortnight agonizing and waiting, poring over my journal entries, reviewing what I knew and what I suspected. Never writing what I feared most, lest committing it to paper would make it come true.

The final letter I had received—and I prayed none had come since I left—guided my course.

My Dearest Elizabeth,

I write with bad news. I have found Henry in Inverness. I scarcely recognized him.

We will not be reconciled in this life. I have turned my back on him forever. I am sorry. I could have, perhaps, made more of an effort for your sake. I have taken a cottage nearby so that I can finish my own work.

It is cold and dark, the wind eternal and wretched, but for you, I would endure anything. I feel as if you are with me, by my side. My time here is agony. I am haunted by past failures. They whisper to me at night and plague my dreams. I will not fail again. I will protect you always.

With all the affection of my soul,

Victor Frankenstein

—

I arrived in Inverness sometime before dawn, too early to venture out. A cozy private room was secured by waking an angry innkeeper, and I sat by the fire, relieved to be behind stone walls but still feeling the motion of carriages and boats.

The flames illuminated Victor’s words as I again studied the three letters that had found me before I left. I had already delayed so long! I prayed I was in the right place. And I prayed my courage would not falter. I would find Victor the next day, and feared and hoped—in equal measure—that doing so meant I would find the monster, as well.

Chapter Eighteen: His Dark Materials to Create More Worlds