Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match(72)

“That will be all right,” the man echoed. “We want more candles.” He was preoccupied with Will’s revelation. “Why are you a gentleman, and I live out here?”

“I’m not a gentleman,” Will said. “I was spoiled initially, but I now live very modestly, in the cottage near the orchard.”

“You can live there, too,” Angelika offered. “You ran off so suddenly, I didn’t have enough time to treat you well. You are both gentlemen.” Her words did not ring true, because this poor soul was barefoot and dirty, and Will was in tailored clothing and boots. “I know you have suffered. But it is not too late to turn everything around. You must return with me now, to wash, and rest. We want to take care of you.”

“I’ve heard about your big black house,” the man replied to her. “I’ve heard you are not so nice, sometimes. You throw people away.”

She was so horrid that even a friendless forest dweller knew it? Her reputation preceded her so? “I do not. You ran away. There’s a difference.”

“You only keep the useful ones.” He was about to elaborate, but then noticed Will’s interest in his gold ring. “It will never come off. It is too tight.” He swung the club menacingly. “She tried to take it but learned her lesson.”

“You hurt me that day, and I could have died,” Angelika scolded, and to his credit, he ducked his head and looked guilty. “But I found your flowers, and I know you are sorry. Stop swinging that.”

Will made a second revelation to the man. “I am only interested in your ring because you have my hands. They gave them to you. That ring was mine, once.”

“It’s true,” Angelika said, but she hurriedly added, “But you do not need to give the ring back. That is not what we are asking of you.”

“Keep it,” Will agreed. “But I am hoping it holds a clue to my identity. I don’t remember who I am. Does it have an engraving?” The man was unsure and shuffled his feet. Will tried another way. “Does it have a picture, or words, or a crest? An insignia? A carving?”

The man assessed his opponents, eyes narrowing over them, suspecting a trick. They both raised their hands and retreated six feet. It was only then that he lifted his hand and scrunched his face in concentration. “I do not see well up close now. There is a shape pressed into the gold.”

“Feel with your finger,” Angelika suggested.

The man rubbed his fingers over the ring. They did not straighten from their bent shape. “I do not feel things well. These are bad hands I have now.”

Will asked, “How long have they felt that way? Did they start feeling cold, and the thumb joints hurt at night, then tingling in the fingertips?” He held up his own hand. “That is what I am feeling.”

“It will get worse,” the man said, with evident regret. “Until they are no good. Maybe we are brothers. I am not . . . very well. I heard what you told her,” he said in a hushed, confidential tone. “I am dying, too.”

Angelika could not hear another word. “I think you will be just fine if you allow me to keep you warm and fed. I will prove it by how well I take care of you both.” Now she decided to ask the obvious question. “Can I come over and look at your ring, sir?”

“No,” Will barked, scaring even himself. He put an arm around her waist, holding her tight to his body. “No, no, no.”

“Release her,” the man invited with a faint smile. “She can come to me.”

Will was incredulous. “And will you give her back?”

“Her hair is soft, and she smells nice.” It was not an answer that inspired confidence. He added, “Nicer than Granny, with a nicer voice.”

“That was you, stroking my hair?” Angelika put a hand on her hip. “You frightened the wits out of me.”

Will was bristling. “Angelika is mine, and you won’t take her.”

“I am bigger than you, little brother,” the man reminded. Angelika’s old daydream of two men fighting over her was on the cusp of becoming a reality, unless she acted fast.

“Here’s an idea. If I get the candles for you, could you press the ring into some warm wax, and leave it for me? Perhaps your granny could help you.” The man considered the unexpected request, but ultimately nodded. “Where do you live?”

His smile was sly. “Somewhere clever.”

Angelika could see the military academy in the distance, and she pointed at it. “I want you to know something. There are soldiers looking for you. Have you seen them? They would be in uniform, on horses, and the commander riding at the front is fair and handsome.” She watched the man think, and then nod. “You must stay far away from the village, and especially from him. He is angry for what you did to me, and I’ve told him not to, but he will kill you.”

“Another who wants you.” The big man observed Will’s hold on her. “A fine lady, worth killing a wraith like me.”

She shook her head. “No one will kill you on Frankenstein land. Do not cross over the gray stone walls.”

“We won’t,” the man said. “I am so close to you sometimes, but you don’t see me. Angelika”—he said her name slowly, like an experiment—“pretty Angelika. Maybe you should come and live with me.”