Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match(82)

She burst through a row of trees, and what she saw and smelled had her heart sinking into the earth.

It wasn’t Victor’s big man. But it was men. Men from the village, four, five, huddled around a campfire, and they were not the regular gardeners. They had sacks of apples around them. It was theft, but no matter. She saw liquor bottles, and a rabbit cooking on a spit. In the heartbeat that they all stared, she saw them look at her nightgown, her loose hair, and the fact that no protector stepped out behind her.

“Hello, luvvie,” one said, and his smile and tone were all the warning she needed.

Mary had drummed the following into her during her adolescent years:

No hesitation, no politeness, run.

Angelika swung her arm in a full circle, throwing the lantern into the middle of the group, and she began to run through the rows, faster than their rabbit. Behind her, she heard the roar of confused outrage. Her head start would last only as long as it took drunk men to get to their feet.

“Will!” Her scream pierced the air. “Will, open the door for me!” If he was asleep, or the cottage was further than she thought, it would be too late for her.

Never had she had such a profound empathy for hunted animals as she did now; she could feel every footstep behind her, could hear every branch snap, grunt, curse, and oath. At times it felt like she was miles ahead; other times she felt the pluck of fingers on her clothes. Her ankle turned and she lost a boot, just as her brother had on that fateful night when they created their masterpieces.

“Angelika!” Will’s faraway shout was coming from the wrong direction. She had somehow gotten turned around, and she was in the green apples when she should be surrounded by russet red.

Her hesitation cost her.

Hands grabbed her upper arms and lifted her clean off the ground. She smelled liquor and sweat. In her ear, a stranger sneered, “Where’re you off to?”

Everything hung suspended in an odd moment, then time spun faster, and she began kicking her feet. The guttural sounds she heard behind her were horrible. Snarling like a wolf, growling like a bear. The hard grip was wrenched away from her body, and she fell down to her hands and knees. She could hear Christopher shouting, even fainter than Will. Rolling onto her back, she looked up to see her attacker having his neck broken very efficiently by Victor’s huge man. The next one who blundered into the fray met the same fate.

Her rescuer tipped back his head, and let out a howl that echoed off the mountain.

He grabbed at a third man, who uttered his final foul word before joining the growing pile. “No! That’s enough,” Angelika panted, and they let the others flee into the night. Now they were alone.

Gasping for air, she asked, “How did you find me?”

“I think I always will,” he replied.

Her nightgown was up around her thighs. She pushed at it, but her hands were covered in dirt. He knelt over her, brushing at her ineffectually with his unusable hands, uttering a tsk. He radiated nothing but protective, brotherly concern. Her breaths were sobs of sheer relief.

It was this tableau that Will and Christopher both crashed in upon, from opposite rows of apples.





Chapter Twenty-Nine


Dirt, thighs, tangled hair, and tears.

Angelika Frankenstein lying beneath a monstrously huge man.

That was all Will and Christopher registered in this scene. They stepped over the dead men without even noticing them. All she heard was them saying her name, over and over.

Her savior roared to silence them, and Will put his hands up in a placating way.

“I’m all right,” she told them. Then she saw the gun in Christopher’s hand. “No, don’t!”

He fired a shot. Whether it was designed to miss was unclear. Now he had no second shot prepared, and the man was getting to his feet. “Fuck,” Christopher said in his cultured voice. He looked up and up, until the man was at full height. “Cover your eyes,” he told Angelika, and then threw a handful of sand up at the man. It did not blind him, only landing mid-torso. Christopher scanned around on the ground for a weapon.

“He just saved me,” Angelika said, scrambling up. She put herself in front of her rescuer. “He just stopped those—those—” She gestured, and they finally noticed the dead men. “They were going to—I think they were going to—” Her teeth were chattering.

“They were going to take off her nightgown,” the huge man said, his voice rumbling in his rib cage. “I smelled what they wanted to do. Filthy creatures, chasing Angelika, making her all dirty.” She felt his icy hands curl around her shoulders. “Now I find two more chasing her?”

“You know Will, and Christopher is my friend,” she assured him. “They were trying to save me, too.”

“What are you doing out here?” Christopher’s fear was converting into anger. “Why didn’t you turn around? The house was closer than Will.” He put a hand into his hair. “I was closer than Will, goddamn it, Angelika!”

“She was coming to visit me, because she was lonely,” Will replied, but he was explaining to the man holding Angelika. “And she still wants to come to me, don’t you, my love?” He said it slow and easy. She nodded. “We’ve talked about this, brother. She loves me, and she is mine.”

“Brother?” Christopher echoed, opening the chamber of his pistol to see what he might do. “Let her go at once.”