Now the man looked confused, thrown by my abrupt shift and already doubting the meanness he had seen. “Er. Well. Yes. He never said why he needed more working room.”

“Do you have his new address?”

His eyebrows warred between wry and apologetic. “We have not kept in touch since he called me a fool with silk between my ears.”

I put my fingers to my mouth in mock outrage, though really it was to cover my grin. How I had missed Victor! “The strains of his studies must have been great indeed for him to act in such a manner. He has probably remained a stranger since out of tremendous guilt for his ill-treatment of you.” I pulled out one of the cards I had written up that morning. Frau Gottschalk had added the cost of the ink to our bill. “If you remember anything, or if he comes by to apologize, will you be so kind as to let me know? We are staying at Frau Gottschalk’s House for Ladies for a short time.” I held out the card and pressed it into his palm with slightly more contact than was necessary. This time his look was less confused and more dazzled.

I was not good with only the Frankensteins after all. Frau Gottschalk was simply terrible. Though we left Victor’s old housing no closer to finding him, some of my confidence was restored.

Justine pointed out a café and we stopped to have tea. The decor left a bit to be desired, if one desired things like taste or elegance. But it was relatively clean, and the tea was hot. I wanted to rest my face over the steam, let my soul steep in the heat alongside the tea leaves.

“What should we do now?” Justine had her hands beneath the table, worrying at something. We were the only women there, the rest of the patrons easily identifiable as students by their ink-stained fingers and ghostly pallor. Every brow furrowed by intense concentration made me miss Victor even more. However, most of the brows unfurrowed and rose in interest as Justine and I spoke. I pretended not to notice. Justine did not have to pretend, as she always seemed genuinely unaware of the effect we had on men. I, however, was perfectly aware of my beauty. I considered it a skill, alongside speaking French, English, Italian, and German. It was a language of its own, in a way; one that translated well in different circumstances.

“Do you have any other letters?” Justine asked. “Contacts we can use?” I saw now she held a little lead soldier toy, rubbing it like a talisman. William’s, most certainly. Of the three Frankenstein boys, I had no use for any but Victor. Justine loved the other two enough for both of us.