HORROR THRILLERS-A Box Set of Horror Novels (11 page)

“
I am a modern
man,” he said. “I do not believe in God or angels, but
rather in scientific fact.”

“
You look upon
me and can say that? You know I’m not a child. Tell me you
know that, George.”

He hung his head and
said, “I know.”

“
You don’t
have to be afraid. George, listen to me…”

He raised his head
and stared at her.

“
I love you,”
she said simply. “I loved you the minute I saw you on the
street that day. If I was a woman I would love you in a literal way,
but since that would be abhorrent to you when I have this child body,
I can only love you with my heart.”

Tears began to roll
down his cheeks. “An angel loves me,” he said. “A
little angel.”

“
And you? Do
you love the angel back?”

“
I do,”
he said, and pulled her into his arms and kissed her soft cheek. “I
will, forever, love you, little urchin of mine. You've given me
everything and all I've given in return is being called Father.”

Very much like she
had done with Patricia, Angelique revealed her great wings and
pirouetted in the air for George. Unlike Patricia's fear, however,
she saw in George's eyes a devotion and love she never might have
hoped to see ever again. He did love her, he did.

They spent the
remainder of his life together. She went from child to grandchild to
great-grandchild for thankfully George was so long-lived.

When he aged, she
cared for him. When he lost his memory, she reminded him of who she
was. And when he died in his sleep as she was curled to his old
spindly back to keep him warm, she had him buried in a church
courtyard, a great stone crucifix as his headstone. It read:

GEORGE BARSTOW
LAMBERT,

BELOVED OF
ANGELIQUE,

FATHER, DREAM ON
WITH ALL THE ANGELS.

This time she kept
the house and dismissed all the servants. She did not open the door
to visitors, and when the food in the house ran out, and the oil in
the lamps was gone, she packed a small bag full of gold, and left
again one life to enter another.

Angelique bought
passage to Britain, found herself on the street in a gang of
ragamuffins easily subdued, and decided to become their leader. She
secured, though a paid accountant, a large apartment, and took all
the children with her there. Like Patricia, she taught them to stay
clean, cut their bushy hair, and mind their manners. For months she
read to them and taught them their numbers. Some of them disliked
being caged in the apartment and told what to do; those she sent
packing without nary a farthing to help them out. The rest, those
who listened to her, adored her, and found her special, she treated
with some kindness.

It wasn’t that
Angelique had grown a heart. She was bored, as always she was, and
now she had ruled an island nation, taken a mother, then a father,
and now she adopted siblings—just to experience these things in
this particular life.

It did not last
long. Within two years, as the boys and girls grew, went to school
and were educated, they were not remiss in noticing their leader did
not age at all. She did not grow in stature, nor did her face grow
older. A few of the orphans left the apartment, never to return.
Finally, they all left, one after another, and Angelique never asked
after them. She knew what the matter was and did not blame them for
running away. Anyone who was around her for more than a few days
knew she was not an ordinary girl. She was something else, something
else entirely.

On her own again, a
new misery invaded her. The big apartment she had supplied for her
clan rang emptily as she walked the wood floors. The sights from the
windows could not bring her from her mood and neither the sunshine
nor the starry night could impel her to do more than minimal upkeep
of her human form.

She began cursing
God, as he had cursed him before. She muttered beneath her breath
and stomped the floors or threw herself across the big bed, weeping.

She was so tired of
trying to find a way to live in this world. She needed other people
in order to get by. Alone she would eventually be incarcerated as an
orphan and she knew she’d have to escape. She needed a mother,
a father, other children. Someone to help her. Anyone…

Then a traveling
circus came to London, posters hung everywhere, flyers littering the
streets and the gutters announcing the arrival. Angelique stood one
day on the street reading the poster and turning her head to the side
to stare frankly at the image of a panther. She fondly remembered her
helpmate, the panther of Hispaniola, and how devoted he had been. The
panther in the poster called to her—the badly drawn cat on the
scrappy paper seemed to reach out and claw her toward it. Yes, she
thought, I can come to you and we will understand one another.

She believed she had
found a way out of her predicament. She had a supernatural advantage
over animals that she could use to secure a place with the itinerant
crew.

It was spring, the
snow long melted and the gray slush of winter washed from the
cobble-stoned streets. She saw the sad little procession of the
circus as it came into town, hauling carts of tents and cages of
fierce animals. She left the apartment, her bag of gold slung over
her shoulder, and marched down the street behind the last cart. As
it neared the edge of the city, a bare ground was found and all sorts
of tumultuous noise broke out as carts were unloaded and men and boys
began to set up camp.

She stood back until
she spied the boss man, the manager. He was a small round man with a
mustache. He flung his arms and gave orders others obeyed. She
waited for hours until the tents were set up and the cages where set
behind the largest tent. Then she approached the manager with a
smile.

“
Sir, may I
show you what I can do for your company?”

He was a gloomy man
and full of frowns. He said, “You’re a kid, get outta my
way.”

“
I can make a
panther lie down on my command.”

“
Sure you
can,” he said, walking away.

She followed, her
skirts flouncing. “I can make any animal go to sleep just by
clicking my fingers. I can make a snake stand on its tail. A fish
fly! A mongoose dance!”

He had sped up and
she was racing behind, yelling.

He stopped so
abruptly, she ran into the back of his legs.

He turned and took
her by the scruff of the collar, half lifting her off the ground.
“What do you want?” he growled.

“
I can do
magical things you’ve never seen. Let me prove it.”

He hauled her, feet
dragging along the ground, behind the large tent. He threw her
toward the lion’s cage. “There,” he said. “Go
ahead, do something magical or maybe I’ll feed you to him.”

Angelique looked
into the lion’s eyes and immediately read him. He was old and
diseased. He had bad teeth and two in the back hurt him like hell's
blazes. He was quarrelsome and wanted free so badly it made a
sourness fill his mouth. He wanted to eat her just so he could crack
open her bones and suck the fatty marrow.

She communicated
with the old beast, promising that she would free him from his
imprisonment if he obeyed her every wish.

Slowly the lion
stood. His gaze never left the girl. Angelique raised her hand.
Suddenly the lion stood on his back legs, wobbly but strong enough to
hold the stance several seconds. She lowered her hand. The lion
landed on all four paws. She twirled. The lion twirled. She got
onto her knees and then lay down on the ground. The lion did the
same, the yellow of his eyes twinkling with danger.

During the whole
demonstration, the circus manager stood aside, unbelieving. Never in
his life had he seen an animal obey anyone so completely—and a
child!

He turned and said,
“How did you do that?”

“
Magic.”
She smiled a shy, little girl smile. “And I will work cheap
for you.”

“
You can do
this with other animals?”

“
All of them,”
she said.

“
Where are
your parents?”

“
Dead. I am
alone, sir.”

“
I guess I
could take you in, let you try out

a show or two…”

Angelique knew how
to play this man now. She ran to him and hugged his legs. “Oh
thank you, sir, thank you!”

She was given a
small cabin built on the back of a wagon, only large enough for a
small bed and a woven basket for her clothes. She was never happier.

CHAPTER 14

CIRCUS DAYS

During her stint
with the circus, which lasted just three years due to how she never
aged and not aging would have caused consternation, Angelique grew
ever more lonely. No one in the circus cared for her, keeping a wide
berth. A child who could so easily command wild animals spooked them
all.

Finally, at the end
of three years, just before Angelique knew she had to move on, she
made a decision. She relented and summoned forth Nisroc, her most
troublesome angel.

She realized that
only another immortal being could fulfill her wish for companionship.
After the circus, all on her own again, she would have to move on,
take up a fake family, create a new life. But if she had another
angel with her, and he took the body of a grown man, he could play
her father and they could live for hundreds of years on Earth without
all this nettlesome change and lengthy training of humans she was
having to endure.

And the wire-walker
artist was dying. He had contracted consumption and now lay in his
cabin coughing blood. He was a lovely man, all Scandinavian blonde
with white skin and a smoothly hewn masculine face. His eyes were
blue and due to his artistry, his body was beautifully muscled.

But he was dying,
nevertheless.

A perfect vessel for
Nisroc.

She called for him
at night, after the circus had shut down and all the city gawkers had
left the midway. The great angel heard her and came immediately,
wings flapping, eyes flashing. She stood outside her little cabin
and it seemed that Nisroc filled and darkened the sky. “As you
know, I’ve been obediently waiting,” he said.

“
I have a body
for you. It should be empty tonight if I am any judge of death’s
ways. Come with me, I’ll show you where this body lies.”

Nisroc was so
excited his wings rustled as he strode beside her, his non-corporeal
body shimmering through the air like shadows over water.

Outside the
wire-walker’s cabin she stopped and pointed. She knew Nisroc
could sense the human inside, just as she could. He could feel the
life there and how it waxed and waned like a candle flame blown by a
breeze.

“
I’ll be
ready,” he said. He turned and embraced Angelique. “I’m
so grateful to you.”

She eyed him
cautiously. “I need a companion. I’m weary of the
humans. I need someone to complete a family for me since I am a…a
child. It’s been too difficult going it alone. You’ll
still have to obey, of course.”

“
At your
command, my queen,” he said, bowing low, his wings grazing the
ground.

She watched as he
disappeared, nothing but a wisp of cloud on the wind and she turned
to the cabin, waiting. It would happen tonight. Not more than an
hour away. She could hardly wait.

Angelique watched
the dead man’s eyes open. Success!

Nisroc was back.

The body was
exquisite—muscled with long legs and wide shoulders. The face
was Scandinavian, square with a strong jaw and a high, intelligent
brow. The eyes were a blue that would rival the deepest, stormiest
seas.

Now those eyes, no
longer dead and empty, but reflecting intelligence and understanding
stared back at her. He looked incredulous.
“Angelique,”
he whispered, recognition finally dawning.

“
Can you
move?”

His face drew in
with effort. A crease furrowed between his fine, blue eyes.
“I
can’t…”

She put a hand on
his shoulder and pressed him back. He lay on the wood plank floor of
her wagon, a small embroidered pillow beneath his head. She had the
thick curtains drawn at the back of the wagon, but she still glanced
there every little bit to make sure no one had come to fetch her. It
was yet two hours before show time, but sometimes they checked her
wagon to remind her the panther was calm or the elephant was tearing
up his pen again or the lions were so lethargic they’d fed them
raw meat coated with pepper to try to rouse them.