Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match(56)

Angelika fled the building. “Let me go,” she chanted as she ran across the lawn in the direction of the orchard, Will, anywhere but here. She felt like she could run all the way to Larkspur Lodge, to lie on her true childhood bed, until she worked out her new place in this world. “Let me go, let me go—”

Then, she saw him, on the edges of the forest, with a gold glint on one hand. The last man she ever expected, and he was looking right at her, and she imagined she saw compassion in his look.

It was Victor Frankenstein’s missing creation.

And because she did not know what else to do, she lifted her hand in a wave, and walked to him.





Chapter Eighteen


It made perfect sense in the moment.

If she could just get Will’s ring from this man’s hand, things might turn out all right today. Even better if she could end this day with this big chap tucked into a bed in the manor, full from a hot meal. She indulged in determined daydreams as the lawn turned to meadow, and then tussocks, then rocks.

Tonight, the entire secret society could regroup by the fire to study the ring. There would be a pat on her shoulder from Victor and a grateful look from Will. Christopher would be speechless at her bravery. Clara would exclaim, I say! Angelika and Mary would exchange apologies in the hall, and Angelika would bring a cup of tea to her for once. Lizzie would catch her sleeve later and say something like, I could never replace you.

It was all going to work out.

If Angelika could manage this one little thing.

“Hello,” she puffed as she hiked over the difficult terrain. “Do you remember me? I’m Angelika.” The sun was at an awkward angle above, casting such a black shadow line between the forest and clearing that she had a terrible feeling she had simply imagined him. She shaded her eyes, squinted, and saw he’d retreated further into the trees.

He was bringing something up and down into his mouth. It was a deeply familiar action.

“You’re here for some apples.” She stepped across the shade line, and once in the cool dim light, she could study Victor’s friend properly.

The size of him took her breath away. While Angelika was choosing the most handsome body parts, Victor was sorting through for the biggest. This man was clothed, and what a good thing, too. He wore stolen garments, with the pants calf-length and stiff with mud. His peasant shirt was designed to be worn loose in the heat. On this man, it was a vest. He wore no shoes or hat.

He was in a distressed state; equal parts dirty, tired, hungry, and hopeless.

Also, wordless.

“Can I please assist you?” Angelika asked, wincing at the sight of his feet. They’d covered many hard miles. Her advance frightened him; he shook his head and backed against a tree, furiously biting the apple, even chewing the core. Juice and seeds ran down his chin. “It’s quite all right, do not rush. Please, be easy. Sir, do you have a name?”

He said nothing but looked down at her boots. She did, too, and saw an apple by her toe.

“Here.” She picked it up and held it out. He was a color she did not think would wash away: ashy gray, with bruise-purple tones around his eyes and mouth. She tossed him the apple, but it dropped into the grass uncaught.

Those hands were Will’s hands. She found herself staring at them intently as he fell to his knees to search in the grass. They were beautiful, despite the filthy nails and deathly tone.

Oh, to travel back to that moment, alone with Will as he lay on the slab. She should have fought Victor more vigorously and kept him utterly perfect just as he was. She deserved to lose her own hands for what she had done to him.

Victor’s man was eating the apple on his hands and knees now. His bunched fist was right there, adorned with a thick band of pure, glowing gold. The insignia was tantalizingly close. Angelika had once purchased a tiara out of another woman’s hair; this should be even more straightforward. She ventured closer, spooking him.

“Can I see?” She touched a fingertip to her opposite hand. “Sir, please can I see your lovely ring?”

This man uttered his first vocalization, and whilst it wasn’t a word, it was definitely a no.

“I would like to buy it from you.”

No.

They both heard a shout far away: “Angelika! You found him!”

“Ignore it,” she urged the man as he flinched and gathered himself into a low crouch. “Come, take my hand, I will help you to your feet.”

He managed it on his own, towering over her again. He was deeply suspicious now, his eyes darting over her shoulder, cupping his ring protectively. He was twice her size, and the fact he thought her capable of forcibly removing it gave her a shameful rush of power.

“I understand it is your one true possession, and I’m sure you love it dearly,” Angelika said, stepping closer. “But I will pay more than it is worth. I will give you a cottage, and I will ensure an entire wardrobe is tailored for you. Food. Apples. New gold rings. Anything you want. Just name your price.”

“Angelika!” another voice shouted, closer; it was Will.

“Angelika!” Victor again. “Keep him there! At last, my friend!”

“No, no, go back,” she shouted in response, then said to the startled man soothingly, “Ignore them. I can see you will not negotiate. If you could just let me look at the ring, enough to draw a sketch of it, you can keep it. And I’ll help you create a comfortable life. Just come with me. You can have a bath, and we are cooking lunch.”