Page 7 of Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match
“Damn it all,” Angelika cried out in anguish. “He was so perfect. I will never again have another so perfect.” Those beautiful brown eyes would never gaze upon this world again. Loss nearly turned her inside out. Outside, her brother was roughhousing with his creation, but her own darling was burned. “Well, I’m alone forever,” she said to herself as her tear-filled eyes began to readjust to the gloom.
Her heart stopped.
Wrenching himself upright in the chamber of gel was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. He was spluttering out mouthfuls of liquid, before inhaling some rough, crackling breaths.
“My love?” Angelika came closer, and all she could see was how well she’d done. Unlike Victor’s man, her keen eye for sewing and pattern making had resulted in a truly excellent outcome. He was perfectly formed, with ideal proportions.
This was a body to live for, and a face to die for.
She came closer still, smoothing down the front of her blouse and plumping her bosom up. “My love?”
After an almighty coughing fit, the naked man managed to get out: “Where am I?”
Chapter Three
Angelika had rehearsed a welcome-back-to-life spiel three times before this, but everything was now forgotten. “Oh, goodness. Sir, you are gorgeous.”
“My arms feel strange.” He tried to rub his face on his shoulder. “Oh, the pain. What has happened to me?”
Angelika took a handkerchief from her trouser pocket. “Let me help.” She wiped his eyes clean, and when they opened and looked into hers, she could have sworn she felt another lightning strike. Star-fire was in her blood and bones. “You’re alive. I cannot believe it.”
The man winced and shifted, breaking the moment. He was busy getting his bearings, eyes wild and unfocused as he looked around the room and down at his own body. “Who are you? Where am I?”
“You died, but I brought you back. Well, my brother and I. I am your new...” She hesitated on the phrasing. Maker? Admirer? Friend? He was waiting for her explanation, so she went with: “... mistress, and my brother, Victor, is your master. You may live here with us now, as long as you like.”
“Butwhereis here?” The man reached out for the edge of the chamber and froze at the sight of himself. “This isn’t me,”he said in a daze to his arm, and began to struggle, clumsy like Victor’s creation. “I’m all heavy and cold. It’s pain like I’ve never known, piercing right through me. And you won’t tell me where I am.”
“Blackthorne Manor. Well, the laboratory anyway, which used to be the barn.”
“That’s not as helpful as you seem to think,” he replied, and with a huge amount of placenta slopping over the edge, he hauled himself out of the chamber to stand beside Angelika, his muscles gleaming in the candlelight. She could not admire his body now. He shimmered with agony, and it made her sick to her stomach. She put a hand on his slimy elbow, but he shook it off irritably, looking instead to the window. He moved toward it with wincing, grunting determination, his ambulation stiff. Both of tonight’s creations seemed hell-bent on escaping.
“No, stay here, it’s raining,” Angelika shouted. She noted his exceptional backside in an abstract way as he leaned out the window. But he made no further move to climb out, and when she came closer, she saw he was observing Victor struggling on the lawn in the sheeting rain. Victor had managed to loop a rope around the huge man and was wrangling him as best he could with the loose end around a tree for leverage. In the shadows of the house, a lop-eared pig was observing the commotion.
“That’s my brother. Pardon me, Victor,” Angelika called from the window.
“I’m busy!”
“Mine worked, too.”
Victor’s head whipped around in shock. His creation took advantage of his broken attention, untangled himself, and fled, pursued by the pig.
Victor roared unintelligibly. He was soaked and exhausted, with one boot missing.
“He’s alive and talking.” She pointed at the man at her side. “Let yours go, you’ll never stop him. Come back inside.”
Victor couldn’t accept this. “He might hurt himself.” He took off running into the night.
The man looked down at Angelika. “What did you mean, yours worked, too?” He was shaking badly with cold, his skin still an unhealthy hue. “Am I like that giant... thing? What did you do to me?”
“He’s not a thing, he’s a guest, just like you. I told you what I did. I saved your life. Come away now.” This time when she took his elbow, he allowed her to lead him back into the relative warmth of the room. “I’ll ask our servant to light us a fire and heat some water.”
She pulled the lever markedMARYon the wall—another of Victor’s great inventions—but summoning her this late at night was dangerous. “Come up to the house with me. Here, let me find you something to wear,” she said, cursing her lack of organization. “Wrap this around yourself.”
She passed him a long muslin cloth, and together they knotted it at his hip.
“I’m not going anywhere until you explain everything.” His teeth were audibly chattering. “It’s all a dream, nothing more. I’ve gone mad, that’s what this is. I’m in Bedlam. I’m in hell.”
“Everything is fine. You are in England. Blackthorne Manor is two miles outside Salisbury. I’ll explain everything when you’re in a nice warm bath.”
