“Let us walk and talk.” She looked back at the tree, and the man was gone. It took another few seconds to locate him, and he was closer. His graying complexion and tattered clothes gave him the appearance of a yew tree come to life. Victor had told her of Will’s violent transformation when she had been threatened. What if there was a fight, and he was hurt, or worse? It would be her fault.
“Angelika, wait,” Will spluttered as she marched past him and took the trail at a blistering pace. “Don’t run away when I’m trying to tell you something.”
“I just need to get back,” she replied. The line into the clearing behind the house seemed like miles away. The slope sucked at her shoes, dragging her downhill.
“You’ll trip,” Will said, scooping an arm around her, forcing her to halt. “Shh, it’s all right. Listen to me. I don’t know if I am going to live as long as a normal man.”
The way Victor’s creation moved through the trees was soundless and frightening. Had he followed them up the hill, casting those shadows as he passed the chapel doors, circling, watching the two kiss? What was his motive? Food? Jealousy? He was radiating the same malevolent energy as the trees, and now he carried a short, thick branch like a club.
Will ducked to catch her eye. “Did you hear me?”
“It’s fine,” Angelika said airlessly.
“It’s fine?” Will was stunned. His arm around her weakened. “Did you hear what I just said?”
She was juggling twin horrors. One must be prioritized. “I said I wanted to talk by the fire, but you didn’t listen to that, either.”
“I’m trying to tell you that I think I’m dying,” Will shouted, and the birds roosting above them exploded into flight. “I am losing sensation in my fingertips. I am not healing. I am cold. I am fading away, Angelika.”
Angelika wrenched her eyeline off the man who had been so effortlessly stalking them. “What?”
“Don’t block this out.” Will cupped her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “This is not something you can fix with money, and according to Victor, it likely can’t be fixed with science or medicine. This is happening to me, and I’m afraid, and I would very much like you to say something real in reply.”
She opened her mouth, but the only sound now was a growl from the trees. Will’s hands on her shoulders clamped harder, and comprehension dawned on his face.
“It’s all right,” Angelika told him from unmoving lips. “We just have to get to the clearing. He won’t follow us there.”
“Let her go,” Victor’s creation said, in a voice hoarse from lack of use.
Will released Angelika and whirled, blocking her with his body. “Leave us.”
“You leave,” the big man countered. “She is afraid of you.”
“Of me?” Will was incredulous. “She is in love with me.”
How pleasant it must be to be so sure of another’s love. Angelika’s voice faltered when she said, “I didn’t know you could speak.”
The man scratched at his neck with a curled hand. “At first, my throat felt . . . not quite right. Then, someone helped me to remember how.”
There were kind souls in the world. “I’m glad. Do you remember your old life? What is your name?”
He did not answer, but shrugged and refocused his eerie yellow stare on Will. “I have seen you before. In a dream. A bad dream.”
“You woke up before I did in the Frankenstein laboratory. We were lying side by side. We are like brothers.”
This shocked the man. “But you are a gentleman.”
In response, Will drew down the neck of his shirt to show his line of stitches. “You were made by Victor. I was made by Angelika, his sister.”
“I thought I was yours,” Victor’s creation protested to Angelika. “I thought that was why you visited me.”
Angelika confessed to Will, “I take him a basket in the evenings, with food and some essential supplies. Candles, soap, things of that nature. That’s why I wanted to hurry back. We will give you vegetable pies tonight—will that be all right?”
“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.”
She kept her composure. Will’s arm around her waist was tight. “Follow us now, and I will get your dinner basket. Do you ever see my brother, Victor? He is searching for you, too. He has the same color hair as mine, and his horse is a gray mare.”
“I see him everywhere. Every day.”