“Come to me, Lady Blakesley,” he commanded.
Taking off her shoes, she tiptoed over to him on her petite feet. Patrick took her in his arms and kissed her deeply.
There was little in the way of lovemaking they had not done before. Patrick had explored every inch of Angelica’s exquisite body, savouring every one of its precious treasures.
Today, all he wanted was to be close to her. Today, she belonged to him.
Patrick poured them both a glass of sherry and, after they each had a sip, began the slow task of undressing Angelica, and himself.
Between kisses and whispered words, Patrick did not rush but drew out the evening with his new wife. He massaged her feet sore from dancing, brushed out her hair after removing the ivory combs, and poured her more sherry.
Angelica’s body glowed in the warmth of the night and by the light of the candles, and Patrick took his time admiring it; touching, caressing, teasing.
Lulled by the long day, the sherry, and the late hour, Patrick almost lazily settled between Angelica’s legs. With her eyes closed and a soft murmur, Angelica held onto him with her arms and legs.
Moving slowly, Patrick covered her in kisses. Angelica’s tongue played over his skin in lazy circles. His motions were languid and steady; their minds as one as they moved together.
Slow, and drawn out, they stayed entwined for the rest of the night, drifting off to sleep between moments of wakefulness.
Patrick sat down in Dorien’s office with the rest of the men. He had not ridden into town since his wedding three days ago and was eager to hear of any new developments.
“We have discovered a wealth of items that had been listed as missing or stolen at the Douw property,” Dorien began the meeting. “The wife has spent the past week emptying her home of all the stolen goods to hide them in a shed in the woods. Lawson discovered her during the night.”
“This is why she did not want to speak with us,” Richard commented. “Bereaved, pah,” he spat. “She was only worried she’d get caught.”
“We have taken her into custody,” Dorien continued. “Their three children are currently with their aunt.”
“It seems our beast is cleaning up our streets, wouldn’t you say, Dorien?” Patrick took a chance with the question.
“I have considered it as well, Patrick, as have many a man here, I am sure. The reality of it remains, though … there is a beast amongst us. The people of Ashford are afraid, and they are looking to their mayor for answers. Unless we can find this beast, and know for sure its intentions, we cannot afford to stop hunting it.”
A murmur of agreement passed through the assembled.
“So,” Patrick continued, “if we could prove to the people that the beast only killed those who deserved it, would they be less afraid?”
Dorien frowned in thought. “I haven’t considered it. I guess they might worry about everything they have ever done in their lives; even the smallest sin.”
“We would have to be able to clearly define which sins classify as the killing curse of the beast,” Patrick continued. “We know abuse, murder and theft are on this list already.”
“If we cannot catch the beast, how do we define its motives?” Richard asked. “We cannot sit by while it kills again, and take notes.”
“Richard is right,” Dorien said. “Even if it is killing off the criminal elements of our town, we cannot allow it to run rampant and unchecked. We need to find it; kill it, if we must.”
“Then, how do we proceed?” Edward asked.
Dorien and Lawson conferred quietly for a moment before Lawson answered. “I will draw up notes of each victim’s crimes, as well as the method with which they were killed, and the location. Maybe we can establish a pattern.”
“As for the rest of us,” Dorien continued, “we will continue to patrol and show our strength to the people of our town. I know this is an inconvenience to many of you, especially to those with families at home, but until we can solve this, I need all of your support.”
Patrick gripped the arm of his chair tighter, to remain calm. He would be walking a fine line trying to appease Dorien and keeping his promise to Angelica. The only way out of this situation was to discover Angelica’s true identity and convince her to stop killing - at least within their town.
After all the research they had done, all the books they had read, they were no closer to an answer than they had been before. Patrick thought he had been on to something relating to sins, and possessions, but it led to no further clues.
Angelica greeted him cheerfully when he returned home.
It was still strange to call the big manor his home, especially now that Lady Mary was back. The former matriarch had lost her mind, however, and spent most of her day in her room, looked after by her lady’s maid. Lady Mary was only brought down for mealtimes, and to sit on the veranda for an hour in the afternoons.
Patrick wondered what the older woman had seen that had driven her mad, or whether the simple fact that she had lost her husband had forced her over the edge. At least now, Lady Mary no longer accused him of being the beast, and she sat quietly around the dinner table, eating her food with them.
“I need to speak with you,” Patrick told Angelica after dinner.
They walked out onto the wide veranda, and sat in the loungers, a single candle burning on a low table between them.
“The wolf council insist I play an active role in the hunt for the beast again. This will mean nights away on patrol. I do not know how to do that and keep my promise to you.”
Angelica smiled at him indulgently. “I know you are trying your best, Patrick. You cannot be in two places at once. I have not felt any stirring, and I have not dreamed at all since we’ve been married.”
“We have not been apart except for the one night immediately after. I worry, now, to leave you.”
Angelica’s eyes darkened, and Patrick suppressed a sudden cold shiver.
“Do you worry for me, or do you worry for the bad souls the beast takes?” she asked in a flat voice.
Speechless, Patrick stared at her.
“You said it yourself,” Angelica continued, “all the victims deserved to die. They were as vile as the subjects I have studied over the past two years.”
“Angelica …”
“Maybe you should let the monster be; rid the place of the scourge of mankind.”
Patrick’s thoughts went to the meeting. Had he not thought the same earlier? Why did he condemn Angelica now for speaking it out loud? He looked into her ever darkening eyes but found no comfort there.
“I must do my part, Angelica, or the wolf council will become suspicious,” he hesitated. “Think not bad of me for trying to keep you safe.”
Remarkably, her eyes softened. “Forgive me, Patrick.” She caressed his hand. “I meant not to make you feel guilty for leaving me. It is only that I wish I knew what I was, and I wish I did not have to worry about my safety every day.”
Patrick often spoke about keeping Angelica safe; yet, for him, it was more a matter of keeping her secret safe. He had never considered the fact that Angelica thought herself in immediate physical danger, and he now chided himself for it. How could he have overlooked this? When he was with her, she experienced a modicum of safety; even from the wolf council. The moment he left to hunt and stayed out all night, it left Angelica vulnerable.
Perhaps, it was this feeling of fear that brought out the beast. It was Angelica’s manner of protecting herself. Patrick recalled all the nights the incidents had occurred, but could not determine for sure what each trigger could have been - nor if it had to do with him.
“My love, do you not feel safe here?” he asked. “Nothing can harm you here.”
Angelica’s eyes darkened again, sending a shudder down his spine.
“The wolves are clever, Patrick. They will find out. How will you stop them then?”
“They have no actionable leads at this moment,” he replied. “If I continue to work with them, I can ensure
that I lead them astray should they ever come across something that will lead them to you.”
“And how will you protect me from myself?” she hissed, standing up suddenly.
Angelica moved to the railing, and gripped it with both hands, staring out over the garden. The veins on her neck turned a violent shade of purple.
“Angelica,” he said, coming up behind her, “I will always be here for you.”
Patrick gently turned her around and wrapped her in his arms. Many occasions now, Angelica’s veins had darkened, and he needed to calm her. This time, however, she remained stiff within his embrace, and no amount of soothing words could gentle her. Taking a step back and holding her at arm’s length, Patrick studied his wife. Angelica’s face had darkened, and her eyes were now entirely black - even the whites.
She stared at him, but he did not think she saw him. Her lips moved with words he could not understand. Her arms trembled beneath his hands, and he struggled to hold on.
“Angelica …” Patrick shook her, trying to break through to her.
A strong force pried his fingers off her arms, and a chill wind wrapped itself around his body, moving him backwards across the wooden decking.
Black, swirling smoke coiled itself around Angelica’s dark form, and she rose into the air, spreading her arms.
Chapter 17
When Patrick woke up, Angelica was sleeping soundly, snuggled against his chest. Morning light streamed through their bedroom window.
At first, he thought he’d had a bad dream, but then he noticed he still wore his clothes from last night. Angelica, however, was naked, covered only with the blanket from their bed.
Cold dread rose within him as he recalled Angelica hovering before him. What had happened after? All he could think of was how she had looked. Dark, strong, beautiful. No matter how he tried, he could not see a beast.
“Angelica, wake, my love.”
She moaned in her sleep, and he kissed her lightly on her forehead. Gently lifting her off his chest, he rose from the bed and left her to sleep. After changing his clothes, he gave instructions to the lady’s maid to let Angelica sleep late, and then to bring her a good breakfast.
Fetching his stallion from the stables, Patrick rode into Ashford, dreading the news that awaited him there.
The streets showed no sign of any trouble as Patrick rode towards the mayor’s office, but when he reached it, he saw three horses already tethered outside.
“Am I glad to see you here so early, Patrick,” Dorien greeted him.
Richard, Lawson, and the doctor, Milton Roy, had also just arrived.
“What has happened?” Patrick asked.
“The body of Harriet Adams was dropped off on my doorstep during the night,” Milton said.
“Harriet Adams?” Patrick could not recall the name. “A woman?”
Dorien cleared his throat, uncomfortable.
“Miss Adams was, shall we say, a favourite among men who travelled through Ashford and needed company for a night,” Milton explained. “Many a local man found solace within her skirt, too, I believe.”
“A prostitute? And here I thought only the big cities had those,” Patrick said.
“Indeed, but Harriet Adams was by no means the only one. Miss Adams managed a group of four to five girls; it is said.”
“Did anything happen to those girls?” Patrick asked.
“Miss Adams was the only victim brought to me,” Milton said.
“I have asked Tim Clell and his son Ray to look in on the two girls whose name we have,” Dorien cut in. “It’s the best we can do right now.”
“How was she killed?” Patrick dared to ask.
Everyone turned to the doctor, for this question had not been answered yet.
“As far as I could tell, a sharp object had been violently inserted into her, puncturing her uterus, and other organs, several times,” Milton explained. “She would have bled to death from those injuries, agonisingly.’’
Horrified, the men in the room remained silent, unable to comprehend the extent of those injuries. Patrick, especially, could not reconcile the violence of the killing with his beautiful wife.
A mild breeze blew through the trees by the river, making their branches grind together overhead as Patrick and Angelica walked beneath them. The sweet scent of wildflowers hung in the air, accompanying them on their way to the boat shed.
“You still haven’t told me why we are going there today.”
“I need some privacy with you, Angelica, away from the house and the servants,” Patrick replied. “I cannot think of a better place than our boat shed. It has served us well.”
“It has, indeed,” she smiled.
Patrick looked down into her beautiful face, and a vice tightened around his heart.
When they reached the dock, a swarm of white butterflies hovered over it, and they had to wait for it to pass before they could walk on through to the shed. Angelica laughed and pointed, and Patrick wondered how someone so happy and innocent could harbour such malice inside.
The boatshed smelled of dust and wood, and the flowers they had brought here that had now long dried. Patrick shook out the blankets, and both sat in their makeshift love nest.
“Angelica, please, forgive me, but I need to ask you.” He took her hands in his. “What do you remember about last night?”
Her liquid eye blinked; still blue, but darkening even as he watched.
“You said you would need to leave me again to hunt the beast,” she replied in a flat tone.
Patrick reminded himself that he needed to press on, no matter how difficult this became. He needed answers, not just for the townsfolk, but also for himself.
“Yes, I said I needed to do that,” he agreed. “Do you recall what you did after I told you this?”
“I … don’t …”
Patrick saw the shift in her eyes, noticed the stiffening of her posture; felt the pressure of her fingers clutching his. She remembered. Eyes wide, and her lips forming an ‘o’, Angelica stared at him.
“I am here for you,” he said, “but I need your help. Talk to me.”
“Help me,” she whispered.
“I’m here. What can I do?”
“Kill them all.”
Her voice came out harsh, and deep, and Angelica’s grip on his hands tightened. Patrick tried to pull away, but she would not let him go.
“For the sins of man are punishable by death,” she spoke, “and I am their executioner. I have come to cleanse the Earth of its filth, and make right once more what ran afoul.”
Angelica darkened before Patrick; pale as ever, but exuding such a dark aura, it frightened him. Eyes black as coal, and the veins in her neck a spider web of purple, she leaned in towards him.
“You,” she breathed in his face, “you shall be my servant until I am strong enough to fulfil my destiny. Together, we shall be merciless. We shall be God’s wrath on Earth.”
Patrick fought his frozen panic, trying to think through the haze of fear in his mind. She bound him with more than just her hands, and he could not move.
“God?” he managed to ask in a whisper.
“For God is all-powerful,” Angelica replied, “but he sought to share his power, and gave mankind the gift of free will. It proved to be God’s greatest mistake. We shall undo it. We shall set matters to right.”
Patrick trembled within Angelica’s clasp. Somehow, he needed to get through to her - the real her. “Angelica, my love, please, hear me. I love you. Have you no more love for me?”
It took all his strength to say those words, and he hung limply in her hands once he had spoken them, hoping for an answer.
The thing that was Angelica looked down on him with pitying eyes. “Love? Where is love in this world?”
“We have it,” he whispered.
Angelica dropped him, and Patrick fell onto the blankets. He could barely breathe and struggled to sit up. Before him, the dark form of his wife rose into the air. Patrick scra
bbled backwards until his back pressed to the wall. Angelica rose higher until she hovered midway between the floor and the roof.
Dark smoke swirled around her and, for a moment, Patrick could not see her clearly. Cold wind circled the loft, blowing dust into his eyes. A thunderous noise arose, and Patrick covered his ears. Crouched, covering his eyes and ears as best he could, Patrick weathered the tempest that raged around him. A bright light, too bright for him to look at, now illuminated the shed.
Patrick’s hands began to change, and fur sprouted on his back; a reaction to the danger he faced. He tried his best to suppress the wolf, but the terror within him was real.
The noise around him reached a crescendo, with Angelica adding her unholy voice to it. Objects from the boat shed flew around, randomly smacking into Patrick.
Howling with pain, Patrick’s body obeyed no longer. Amid the chaos that reigned, he changed - bones breaking and mending, fur and teeth growing, head and tail elongating. Never had Patrick changed while experiencing so much fear. The change happened so quickly, almost instantaneous, it brought with it an intense shock of agony.
A roaring growl burst from him when he landed on all fours, and he stared at the figure hovering before him.
They stared at each other; both out of breath. The wolf blinked.
“I see you, wolf,” the angel spoke in his head.
The wolf blinked again. Angelica; for the angel wore Angelica’s face; hovered in mid-air, clad in black armour, and her black wings spread out wide behind her. The angel’s long, dark hair floated wildly around her head as if she were swimming in water. She still exuded the dark aura, but to Patrick, it no longer felt sinister.
“Come,” the angel commanded.
The wolf stepped forward and came to sit before the angel.
“We have work to do. I have lived in this weak body for eighteen years, biding my time; growing, learning, getting stronger. My power is almost at its peak. Until then, I need your help.”
Patrick whined.
“There are sinners everywhere. Every man who has ever lived has sinned, Patrick. Mankind should never have been. They are a disease upon this Earth.”
Playing With Fire Page 63