Page 31 - SAMPLE Following Frankenstein

“I am always proud of my father.”
At the sound of the count’s voice, Victor – who had been snoozing in my pocket – awoke. I could feel his heart beating faster than usual, an echo of my own. What was it about this man that inspired such fear and loathing in us both?
Florenzo was smiling but his eyes were cold, his fingers curling and uncurling round the ivory head of his cane. “Maggie.” He rolled my name around his tongue, altering its shape with his foreign vowels. “You are named after your aunt. Your father’s sister. Were they close?”
“Yes, they were devoted to each other.”
“Brother and sister, devoted to each other?” Florenzo’s fingers continued twisting and untwisting on the cane topper. His eyes never left my face. “How
touching! I had a sister once.” “Once?”
Florenzo pretended to ignore the question. His eyes left my face and surveyed the room. In my aunt’s time it had been modest but not unhomely – always a fire in the grate, the smell of bread from the stove, her herbs drying on the lintel, bottles and tinctures lining every surface. Now it was bare. My father had sold everything down to our pots and pans.
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