“You see? We never threw you away. We have been desperate to find you.”
The big man swallowed with emotion in his eyes and followed them for a silent minute. Then he said, “Granny is hungry, and she is angry with me all the time. She doesn’t like how I eat. Or how I breathe, or smell.” The way he winced was all too familiar.
The last rays of sun filtered through the leaves, and then everything became illuminated. “Please ask Granny to give you a name,” Angelika told him. “She’s good at that.”
Will had not connected the dots. “Who is this Granny? I would like to meet her.”
It was apparently the last question the man could tolerate.
“Why? So you can take her, when you already have the pretty one? Brother, you are always trying to take and steal!” Swiping his club against some branches, he stormed off into the yews, invisible in five seconds. The forest fell silent.
Will was bewildered. “What just happened?”
Angelika said wearily, “He’s got Mary.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Once upon a time, Angelika Frankenstein yearned for adventure. If her past self could have seen her now, she would have let out a cheer. Finally, something is happening!
Action. Excitement. Romance.
She was astride Percy, cantering down the long manor drive toward the village, flanked by Victor and Will, with her silk-lined cloak flowing behind her. It was a dramatic production, directed by Lizzie. She had waved them goodbye, and then vomited pitifully into an urn of geraniums.
Angelika had never felt as determined, or alive. It was worth noting that her mirror had also confirmed she looked very well indeed today, despite her patchy night’s sleep.
But the gnawing worry in her gut over Mary ruined the moment.
She knew that the horseback tableau was impressive, because Christopher was waiting astride his horse at the front gates, and his expression was something like disbelief. As she reined Percy in, Angelika asked Christopher, “What is it?”
“I’m just surprised, every time I see you. I always think you can’t possibly be as beautiful as I remember, and then you appear and . . .” Christopher made a helpless gesture, like he was out of words. His shyness made her heart quiver.
She understood how he felt. She could look at Christopher all day long.
When Angelika glanced to Will on her left, she could see he was irritated. “I see her day and night. She is always this beautiful.” His voice had not lost its possessive growl from the hillside the day previous. “But beauty is only skin deep, and not an achievement. There is more than meets the eye when it comes to Angelika.”
Christopher opened his mouth but was cut off before he started speaking.
“Yes, yes, very good,” Victor said loudly. “Courting, complimenting, competing, et cetera. Can we return to that later? We have a family emergency.”
Christopher still had the note from their messenger in his hand and held it up. “Your servant has been taken by the beast. I rode after breakfast, with no men, as you have specified.”
“He is no beast, but a man, and she is the closest we have to a grandmother,” Angelika corrected. “She is out there somewhere with the man, probably living in the forest, or in a cave somewhere.”
“Is she the emerald thief?” Christopher asked, and Angelika was forced to shrug and nod. “Are we sure they have not colluded?”
Victor answered that. “Until we speak to her in person, and make sure she’s all right, we are not sure of anything.”
“We all need to be aware of a new fact,” Will said. “That man is thinking about taking Angelika; he told me as much. And if he does, it will be hard to stop him.”
Christopher’s only reply was to lift one side of his jacket to reveal a pistol.
Will shook his head. “That gives me no comfort, because he can hide, and stalk. He blends so well into the trees he could be here right now and we would not see him.” This statement caused them to all look around themselves, and the horses grew spooked.
Victor covered his fear by saying, “He’d give her back within the hour.”
Will was not amused. “He told Angelika that he has been watching her, sometimes from close range, and thinks she is pretty, nice-smelling, and has soft hair.”
Angelika tugged fussily at her suede gloves. “I don’t like to brag.”
Victor stood up in his stirrups. “I think he meant ‘pretty smelly-looking.’”
“This isn’t a joke,” Christopher said, clicking into his military persona. “So, he will look for opportunities where she is outdoors and alone. Probably nighttime, when he can blend in. What else do we know?”
“He won’t eat meat,” Angelika volunteered. “He’s got quite a few survival supplies by now: blankets, French blackberry soap, candles, a knife, a flint, a waterskin, a copy of Paradise Lost, and a nice book on oriental woodblock art.”
Christopher asked, with strained patience, knowing the answer: “And how does he have those things?” He looked to Will now. “Another man who does not eat meat. Very strange. I’ve only ever met one in my lifetime. Now two?” His crystal-blue eyes narrowed.
Angelika stepped in. “I think we should consider another option, rather than hunting him. I’ve thought about this all night. I’m the only one he trusts, and I think—”
“No,” all three men said together.
“If I go with him, he will take me to Mary.” She appealed to Christopher. “You are a hunter, so you know we need bait. I’m nice-smelling, and he will absolutely come for me. Then I can talk my way out of it, or pay a ransom, and bring her home.”
“No, you little idiot,” Victor said with feeling. “Absolutely not. Chris and I are going to ride up into the chapel area, where you saw him last. I am going to talk to him and convince him to take us to Mary.”
“And if he won’t be convinced?” Christopher’s hand went to his pistol again like a reflex. “You both believe you can talk, or pay, your way out of anything, but take my advice. Things rarely work out that way in the moment.”
“I agree with you there,” Will said.
“If you shoot him, Mary might never be found. Look at that mountain.” Angelika pointed to the peak rising up from behind their black manor house. “She is up there right now, possibly injured, and certainly irate. He could have her tied to a tree.”
“Here’s a plan,” Christopher said. “Angelika will put out her gifts for him”—here his voice stiffened in disapproval—“and I will be in a deer hide, watching. I will follow him.”
“You aren’t listening to me,” Will told him bluntly. “I have seen him in person. No one could track him.”
Whatever emotion Christopher was feeling caused his mount to stamp the ground. “And you weren’t listening when I said I can hunt anything. This man is finally a worthy adversary for me, and doubly so because I will be protecting Angelika.”
“Enough, peacocks.” Victor was weary. “Chris, let’s set off to search the forest behind the house. Will, you stay with the bait while she undertakes her errands in the village.”
“Errands on your behalf. I am going to arrange your wedding,” Angelika said with a nose-wrinkle.
Victor tipped his hat. “Much obliged.”
Angelika explained to a concerned Christopher, “I will be fine. He promised me he would not leave Frankenstein land. He will not cross over the walls.”
“Promises don’t mean much to desperate people. How vast is your land?”
“There’s almost two thousand acres to search, so I could use some assistance.” Victor circled his mare, Athena. She pinned her ears back and bit Percy’s rump.
As they all reshuffled positions, Victor’s eyeline was on Will. “Look after my sister,” he commanded gruffly. “We’ll take a route through the walnut grove. Everyone, reconvene for supper. Catch me if you can.” In an unnecessarily showy gesture, he lined Athena up to the wall and jumped it.
Christopher grinned as he watched, despite the gravity of the situation. “Look after Angelika,” he told Will.
“I have looked after her longer than you’ve known her. You’re being left behind.”
They held their reins tight as Christopher succumbed to the swirling excitement; he, too, put his horse to the stone wall and jumped it with easy competence. In the distance, they heard Victor whoop in exhilaration.
“They will have far too much fun hunting today,” Will observed with a headshake. As they began to trot their horses in the direction of the village, he asked, “Are we going to talk about what I told you? Last night, you grabbed Lizzie and vanished.”
“We were in my room. Hardly hiding.” But she hadn’t exactly emerged from her room, either.
He now held his reins tied in a knot, with his wrist fed through the loop; just like someone who was having difficulty with their hands might. Once she found a solution for this current crisis, she would explain to him very firmly that he was not dying. He’d told her that on the very first night as she half carried him naked up the stairs. He was wrong then, and wrong now.
“We really need to talk,” Will repeated.