“Why are you doing this?” she demanded, praying that perhaps he was also Gretta’s prisoner and working under duress.
The white-haired doctor didn’t glance at her. He merely strolled to a cabinet and set the tray down. He went about placing instruments upon the cabinet’s surface.
Kate’s fragile hope was dashed. There was no concern or compassion in his manner, only a clinical distance. It was the demeanor of someone who knew full well the true situation. Her face grew hard and settled. “What have you done to my sister?”
He continued with his deliberate work of arranging his instruments. Kate noted with alarm his tray carried vials of liquid and a syringe, as well as horrific-looking medical utensils including scalpels of many sizes and serrations. She swallowed hard. “You were behind her condition from the start. You were working with Colonel Hibbert.”
White regarded her with annoyance as if she had finally said something worth his time. “Please. Colonel Hibbert was merely a tool, and a flawed one. I used him to draw your sister into my hands. When he was no longer useful, I had him killed and I treated Imogen here so I could ensure she would do as I wished. She has been a tremendous help. You should be proud of her.”
“What did you do to her?” A horrifying thought occurred to Kate. “Did you perform surgery on her? Did you operate on her brain? Oh, God!”
“Don’t be silly,” he replied. “A few potions sufficed to turn her. Surgery is only reserved for my final experiments.”
“Experiments? You mean the homunculi,” Kate repeated weakly. Her wrists twisted cruelly against the restraints. The bindings bit deep into her skin, but she didn’t care.
White looked over his shoulder toward a milky white creature lurking in the threshold. Kate’s lungs emptied of breath in a sharp exhale. The thing bent its grotesque limbs to scuttle forward. Its protruding dewy eyes swiveled in her direction. It took several minutes before Kate trusted her voice, and even so, it sounded frail and frightened. “You made those creatures.”
“Yes.”
“Why? Why create something so horrible?”
“Because I can.” White smiled, then gave her a more elaborate answer though the first was perhaps the most truthful. “They are my eyes and ears outside this hospital. Over the years, I’ve become a trifle notorious in some circles as a master of alchemical biology, so I’ve taken care to occasionally alter my appearance and my name. No one would suspect a kindly gentleman doctor named William White.”
“You’re a mad dog.” Kate fought against her restraints with renewed vigor.
His hand slammed down on the table, making the steel instruments jump about with a clatter. His face darkened in a contortion of rage. Kate sat very still, not daring to move and incite his anger more. Several seconds slipped by as she waited in terror. Finally his age-specked skin slackened and stretched into a sickening smile.
“That’s quite rude.” White turned again to methodically reorganize his instruments. “I’m surprised at that statement coming from you. You are an alchemist as well. You should fully appreciate a life of scholarly pursuit. Perhaps your outlook is colored by our location. But you see, Bedlam is the perfect place for work such as ours. I am unencumbered and free to do what I wish to advance medical science.”
“What possible advancement could that creature offer?”
“Ah, I have made them useful in ways they never imagined. Each subject had a special quality that I could enhance. My science enabled their transformation from simple person to magnificent anthroparion. Through my surgical and alchemical skills, they became a miraculous blending of man and mechanics, embodying and disembodying the very spirit of man. One day such a thing will be the norm, and I will be renowned for ushering in a new era. You shouldn’t be alarmed by its appearance. The very act of creation is at once shocking and beautiful. Only through torment can they become something more than what they were. They become that which destroyed them.”
Kate paled in absolute dread. If she understood his mad ramblings, then each of the various homunculi were representations of how White had killed them: quills, spears, acid.
“That’s horrible,” she murmured.
“Birth is horrible from the perspective of the ignorant. Or the maid who must tidy up afterward.”
“What do you want with Imogen? Or with me? Surely there is nothing special about us?”
“You are mistaken. You possessed something very extraordinary.” He raised his hand to show the gold key dangling on its chain.