Page 105 of Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match
“You can do that,” Victor said, and then held up a thicksewing needle. “But you got me thinking, Jelly. You said you’re connected at a blood level. That’s what he needs. Not broth, not prayer. Blood. Do you want it to be me or you?”
Angelika lifted herself up onto her elbows with difficulty. “You’ve made a tube?”
“Out of a rabbit’s intestine,” Victor said. “The thinnest, most impossible thing to sew. I have gone through an absolute pile of them. So many times I almost came in here and asked you to do it. And that’s when I knew how much I have taken you for granted in everything I have ever done.” He was unbuttoning his shirt, but Angelika stopped him.
“Me.”
Victor assessed his sister. “You don’t look so good.”
“It has to be me.” The press of the needle into the bend of her elbow was so painful that she shouted, and beside her, Arlo’s body twitched. They all watched with morbid fascination as the blood began to leak, spurt, and then fill the tube. Lizzie croaked. Mary fainted onto the bed. Angelika winced. “Wait, we should have put down a muslin cloth. Blood is so hard to soak out of linen.”
But then the Frankensteins did not notice anything except the neat squiggle of red that charted a course across the bed, captured in a membrane thinner than an eyelash. One wrong stitch would undo it all, but Angelika saw that her brother had applied himself thoroughly.
“You always said you cannot sew,” she said to him. “But you have done well. Whatever happens next, thank you for trying. I will never forget it.”
“This is the only tube that I managed to completely suture, and I don’t think I can reuse it. So you are going to have to hold on tight, Jelly. I just put this into him here.” Victor plunged the other needle into Arlo’s vein with detached calm.“And we wait. And we pray.” He held his sister’s gaze and put out his hand to her. “I will pray with you, my beloved sister.”
Mary was revived, Lizzie helped her into the armchair, and they both watched the impossible.
“Dear Lord,” Victor said, with his eyes closed. “Dear Lord, save him. I will do anything. Whatever it takes, I will do it. I will bleed myself into him every day if it means my sister can live with her only true love. He is better than all of us put together, and I know that sounds like a strange thing to say about a man who is completely put together.”
Everyone laughed.
Victor continued, still with closed eyes. “I have not prayed once, in my entire life. I did not pray for my parents; I did not pray to find Lizzie. I trusted the natural order of things. I trusted science, and I still do, clearly. But for the first and only prayer I will make in my life, I ask you to save him.” His eyes opened and locked on Angelika’s. “God, I am asking you to let us have him. One lifetime’s worth will do, and when he is an old man, he can return to you.”
Angelika felt a curious sensation: a sparkling, a pulling, a star sensation. She looked across the pillow. “Is he coming or going?”
“He’s right on the edge,” Victor said. Mary rounded to his side, still waxy from the sight of the blood, and her eyeline carefully averted. She assessed the man below. She put her hand on his forehead. She patted his cheek, and then put her thumb on his pulse, and was silent.
“Well?” Lizzie ventured timidly.
Mary replied with dignity, “I am praying, too.” And in the silence that followed, they all thought of the life they wished for him.
Victor wanted a brother at last, to ride horses with at sunset, stomachs full of ale. He wished for a nephew or niece so hard that he brought himself to tears.
Lizzie prayed for Angelika’s smile. She prayed for a blanket laid beneath an apple tree, and the faint buzz of bees. More than anything, she wished that a baby would look at her with Angelika’s same tart, direct gaze.
Mary’s prayers were not exactly centered on Arlo, but she prayed she would find the courage to say important words out loud. That was the fault Angelika had with herself, wasn’t it? They were cut from the same cloth, because Mary had never once told either of these children that she loved them.
Angelika prayed for a heartbeat, and anything beyond that would be a bonus.
They were all so lost in thought, holding hands and making promises to themselves, that they did not notice the new tinge of pink on Arlo Northcott’s cheekbones. And when they did, Angelika Frankenstein refused to let up; she drained herself into the only man she had ever loved, until he opened his exquisite eyes on a new day.
His head turned on the pillow. Everyone remained silent.
“Where am I?” His words should have been terrifying, but there was a dry humor in the question.
Angelika was so weak, the quality of her voice alarmed everyone. But she was smiling now, too. “You are in the bed of a spoiled, wealthy heiress who has realized her privileged position and will work for the rest of her life to deserve you.”
His mouth twitched before he looked down at their linked arms. “What have you done for me?”
“She has at least halfway died for you,” Victor interjected, efficiently pulling the needle from Arlo’s arm, and then his sister’s. The fragile tubing promptly disintegrated, and Mary roared at the mess it made on the bed. As Lizzie began tomop, and Victor began to crow about how Jürgen Schneider would take the news of this latest scientific breakthrough, Angelika used the last of her strength to put her cheek on Arlo’s chest, the one she had personally selected.
“My dream man. The one I have waited for. The one I will live and die for. I think we have found a way to keep you with me forever.”
“Forever?” Arlo’s lips, growing pinker by the minute, quirked into a tired smile. “Forever is a long time, my love.”
“I know.” She tipped up her face to his, and they gave each other a kiss. “Do you doubt me? Have you forgotten who I am?”
