The Burning (4 page)

His back pressed against the wall, Simon stared in helpless horror as the man's face darkened more. Then blistered. The blisters popped open and began to seep.

The man's eyes rolled around. His hands flailed. His shrieks faded to whimpers as the blistered skin burned away.

Chunks of skin melted off, revealing gray bone underneath. Gasping in agony, the man continued to whimper until no skin remained. A gray skull, locked in a hideous grin of horror, stared pitifully at Simon.

And then the body crumpled to the ground.

His chest heaving, the blood throbbing at his temples, Simon swallowed hard, forcing back his horror at the gruesome sight.

Then he carefully slipped the chain around his neck and tucked the ancient pendant under his dress shirt.

I have used the power of the ancient amulet, he realized. The Fear family has long had powers, powers it has used for evil, powers it has used for so many generations in its battle against the Goodes.

Dominatio per malum
. Those were the Latin words engraved on the back of the silver disk.
Power through evil
.

Simon had long resisted the evil power of the Fear family. He had vowed never to use the ancient power of the pendant. The Goode family had been defeated. The centuries-old feud between the Goodes and the Fears was over.

Aggie, the fortune-teller, had told Simon his family would end in fire. The family name had been Fier then. “Rearrange the letters in Fier and you've got
Fire!”
the old woman had exclaimed.

Simon was determined that this prediction would never come true.

So he had changed his name from Fier to Fear. He wore the ancient evil pendant—but never used it.

Until this dark Mardi Gras night.

Wild thoughts raced through Simon's mind as he stared down at the dead figure crumpled at his feet.

I have the powers of the Fears, he realized. I have the power to get what I want. And what do I want most in the world?

I want Angelica Pierce. Beautiful Angelica.

Two obstacles stand in my path, Simon thought excitedly. Two obstacles—the two young men I saw dancing with her.

It shall be easy to get them out of my way, he
decided, feeling the warmth of the pendant against his chest.

The two young men have wealth and breeding. But I am a Fear. And what good are wealth and breeding
if you are dead!

Having decided on his course of action, Simon swept his cape around himself. Then, stepping over the thief's body, he started toward home, humming happily to himself.

“I
love being up so high,” Angelica told her cousin. “You can see everything from here.”

“You can see everyone come in,” Liza agreed, peering down at the orchestra seats through the ivory-plated opera glasses. “You can spy on everyone and gossip about them—and no one can hear you!”

Angelica laughed and tried to snatch the opera glasses from her cousin. James Daumier tugged at his cravat and shook his head disapprovingly. “The opera house is a place for beautiful music. Surely you do not come here to gossip.”

“Look at that scarlet cape Margaret Fletcher is wearing!” Angelica exclaimed, ignoring James's comment. “It looks like something she should wear to the Mardi Gras parade.”

“The color scarlet becomes Margaret Fletcher. She should wear it always,” Liza said cattily.

James turned to Angelica. She could feel his silver gray eyes studying her. “Angelica, you look beautiful tonight.”

“Oh, James, you're so sweet,” Angelica replied. She squeezed his hand, but her attention was on the crowd filing into their seats in the orchestra below.

James leaned close. “Maybe some day you and I shall have an opera box of our own,” he whispered.

“Why, James—what on earth for?” Angelica declared. “We can always use Father's. He
hates
the opera!”

“I meant—” James started, but stopped. Out of the corner of her eye Angelica saw his face go red.

Why is James so serious tonight? she wondered. Is he getting ready to propose to me? Is that why he seems so nervous and uncomfortable? Or is his cravat too tight?

If he
does
propose to me, what will be my reply? Angelica asked herself. She pulled up her long lacy white gloves and turned back to her cousin. “Liza, who are you looking at?”

“That young man from Biloxi,” Liza replied without lowering the opera glasses. “The tall one with the charming smile and those devilish blue eyes. Remember, Angelica? You promised to introduce us?”

“Do you mean Bradford Dues?” James asked
Liza. “You wouldn't like him. He is not your type. He is witty and charming.”

“What?” Liza's mouth dropped open in mock outrage.

James and Angelica laughed.

“I do not find your sense of humor at all amusing,” Liza replied, making a sour face.

“I know you well,” James continued. “You like the strong, silent type.”

“I would like
you
better if you were silent!” Liza declared.

Angelica leaned over the velvet-covered railing to watch the people below. Rows of gaslights flickered brightly along the wall. The orchestra tuned up in the wide pit beneath the shimmering royal blue curtain. Dark-uniformed ushers led the lavishly dressed opera patrons to their seats.

Two weeks had passed since Angelica's ball. Two weeks of nonstop celebration and Mardi Gras parties.

One party with James, then one party with Hamilton, she thought. Then one party with both of them competing for her attention, for her smiles. James and Hamilton. Hamilton and James.

Who will it be? The question troubled Angelica, lingered in her mind like a headache that refused to go away.

On two occasions that strange, dark-eyed young man, Simon Fear, had come to call on her at her house. The first time she ordered the servants to send him away. The second time she agreed
to see him—but made sure that Liza was in the room.

Simon had burst into the sitting room eagerly, a triumphant smile on his handsome face—as if being admitted to the house were an important victory for him.

He strode confidently up to Angelica, took her hand, and kissed it. Angelica heard Liza gasp, shocked by the young man's bold behavior.

The visit had been a short one since there was no adult available to chaperon. Angelica introduced Simon to her cousin. Simon greeted Liza warmly, then ignored her, rudely staring the whole while into Angelica's eyes.

As they talked of the weather and the Mardi Gras and other acceptable topics, Angelica remembered their brief but heated conversation that night in the garden.

“You will be my wife,”
Simon had told her.

Every time the words repeated in her mind, every time she thought of his intense dark eyes and the confidence, the arrogant confidence in his voice, Angelica felt a chill of excitement—and fright.

When Simon had left, Liza tossed back her head and laughed. “What an absurd young man!” she declared scornfully. “Did you see the way he looked at you?”

“He has lovely eyes,” Angelica replied.

Liza cut her laughter short, her expression suddenly serious. “Angelica, you cannot possibly be
thinking about Simon Fear. Your father would have a
fit
if he knew you allowed Simon in this house! He would have the boy horsewhipped and sent back North to his home. Your father would never approve of Simon Fear—and neither should you.”

Liza's words brought a smile to Angelica's face. “I do
not
approve of him,” she told Liza. “I do not approve of him at all ….”

The orchestra stopped tuning up and fell silent. The gaslights were dimmed.

The Pierce family box was near the stage, high above the orchestra. It was the perfect place to see and be seen, which in Angelica's mind was the main reason to attend the opera.

James smiled at her. “It is about to begin. You and your cousin will have to stop gossiping for a while.”

“Oh, good heavens! Look who is here!” Liza exclaimed. She handed the opera glasses to Angelica, then pointed below them.

“Who is it?” Angelica asked, raising the glasses to her eyes. “Oh!” Angelica uttered a soft cry of surprise as in the dimming light she spotted Simon Fear. He was in a seat beneath her box—staring up at her!

Realizing that her glasses were trained on him, Simon smiled wide and waved up at her.

Angelica lowered the glasses and sank back in her seat. “Such arrogance!”

Liza tossed her head. “The opera is supposed to be for society people,” she said snootily.

“Who is it?” James asked Liza. “Have you found yourself another young man from Biloxi?”

“It is just someone I know,” Angelica replied.

Something about Angelica's tone of voice roused James's curiosity. “Someone you know? A boy?” He leaned forward and peered down, his hands on the railing.

“James, please,” Angelica whispered. “The opera is about to begin.” She reached out to pull him back.

But to her surprise James rose to his feet, still leaning over the railing.

“James—what on earth—!” Angelica whispered.

James turned to her, his silver gray eyes wide in an expression of terror. His hands came off the railing. They rose stiffly in front of him, and he turned and started climbing onto the box railing.

“James—come down!” Liza shrieked. “James— get
off
there!”

James balanced awkwardly on the balcony railing for a moment, his mouth open in a silent scream. His arms began thrashing wildly at his sides. His legs trembled.

“James, you're going to
fall!”
Angelica cried.

She grabbed for him with both hands.

Too late.

Without uttering a sound, he toppled over the rail.

“James! James!” Angelica shrieked, her arms still outstretched.

She called his name again and again, not believing her eyes. Not believing that he was gone. Not believing the empty space beside her.

And then her high-pitched screams blended in with the other startled cries and shrieks of horror that filled the darkened hall.

S
imon watched the body plunge from the box. It hit with an echoing
thud
in the aisle.

Then, as horrified screams rose up in the darkness, Simon tucked the silver pendant under his dress shirt and quickly made his way to the aisle.

A few moments later he entered the private box to find Angelica and her cousin comforting each other, their tearstained faces filled with disbelief.

Liza's shoulders heaved as she sobbed. Her face was buried in her gloved hands.

Angelica gazed up, startled to see Simon. She brushed away the tears from under her eyes.

“I am so sorry for you, Angelica,” Simon said softly, his dark eyes locked sympathetically on hers. “So sorry … so sorry.”

“Did you—did you
see
him fall?” Angelica asked Simon. “Is James alive? I cannot bear to look.”

Simon lowered his head sadly. “I am so sorry, Angelica. Your friend is dead.”

“Nooooo!” Angelica uttered a wail of horror.

“He fell so far, so rapidly,” Simon reported in a whisper. “I saw him land on his head. I am sure he died instantly.”

Angelica shuddered and shut her eyes.

“He did
not
jump!” Simon heard Liza cry in a shrill, frightened voice. “Why would James jump? Why did he climb onto the railing?”

“If I can be of any help … ” Simon offered Angelica, his hand placed lightly on her trembling shoulder. “Please know that you can always rely on me.”

Angelica leaned against her father and allowed him to lead her into the sitting room. As they walked, she pulled off her black bonnet and tossed it onto a chair.

“It was a good funeral,” Henry Pierce said in his gruff rumble of a voice. He was a burly, red-faced man with a thick black mustache, and his appearance was as gruff as his voice. “Until the horse pulling the hearse cart tossed a shoe. I cannot understand why they do not inspect these horses before a funeral starts.”