The Burning (6 page)

Angelica sighed. “I haven't had much time to think,” she replied with some sadness.

“I hope you have not been too lonely since Liza returned home to Virginia?”

“I needed this time by myself,” Angelica said, toying with her hair.

“Simon Fear has visited you often,” her father remarked, frowning.

“Simon has been a true comfort,” Angelica replied.

Mr. Pierce nodded thoughtfully. “I hope you have not encouraged that strange young man in any
way.” He took one more glance out the front window, then made his way back to where Angelica was sitting. “I am feeling quite tired this evening. I believe I shall retire.”

“Good night, Father,” Angelica said. She rose and planted a kiss on his broad forehead.

Startled by this unusual show of affection, Mr. Pierce turned bright scarlet. He smiled, wished her good night, and strode quickly from the room.

Smiling to herself, Angelica moved to the sideboard against the wall and bent to pull two silver goblets from the cabinet. She busied herself there for a few moments, then returned to the couch.

About half an hour later the butler entered the sitting room, carrying a small white card on a silver tray. “Mr. Fear wishes to see you, miss,” he said, presenting Simon's card to her.

Angelica took the card and glanced at it quickly, unable to suppress a smile. She nodded to the butler. “I will see him.”

Simon entered, holding his hat in one hand, his dark hair slicked down, a look of concern on his face. But his expression softened to happiness when he saw that Angelica had traded her black mourning dress for a light-colored gown.

Smiling at her, his dark eyes glowing in the soft light of the gas lamps, he crossed the room quickly, then bent and kissed her hand.

She motioned for him to sit beside her. Raising his coattails, Simon lowered himself to the couch. “Angelica—” he started.

But she raised a hand to silence him.

Her emerald eyes burned into his. “Simon, I will marry you,” Angelica said.

He stared at her blankly. He swallowed hard.

“Simon, did you not hear me?” Angelica demanded. “I said that I will marry you!”

“I—I am so—so—” he stammered.

Angelica tossed back her head and laughed. “Why, Simon, I have never known you to be tongue-tied!”

Simon blushed. “My dear Angelica, I am so overcome with happiness that I am speechless!” He took her hand in both of his. “I am thrilled, Angelica. I am the happiest man in all of New Orleans! I am
bursting
with happiness, I swear it!”

Angelica jumped to her feet and walked quickly to the sideboard. “Simon, let us have a toast,” she said happily. “A toast to our marriage, to our happiness.”

She filled the two silver goblets from a silver pitcher. Simon crossed the room and took one of the goblets from her hand. “To years and years of wedded happiness!” he proclaimed, beaming at her.

The silver goblets clinked.

They stood in front of the sideboard, their goblets raised, their faces glowing in the soft gaslight.

Then, to Angelica's surprise, Simon's expression darkened. “I must tell you something now, dear Angelica,” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper.

She gazed back at him expectantly, her eyes locked on his.

“I love you so much,” Simon said. “So much … I would do anything for you.” He hesitated.

“Yes, dear,” Angelica replied impatiently. “What is it?”

“I was so determined to have you. Nothing … no one could stand in my way.” Simon continued, his eyes sparkling now.

“Yes?”

He took a deep breath, then let it out. “I love you so much—so much—that I
murdered
James Daumier and Hamilton Scott to win you!”

S
imon stared hard at Angelica, waiting for her reaction to his words.

She gaped at him in stunned silence, the silver goblet trembling in her hand.

“Angelica,” he said, his voice quivering with emotion, his eyes pleading with her not to be repulsed by his news, not to reject him because of what he had done. “Angelica, I murdered them for
you
. That is how powerful my love is. My love for you is so overwhelming that I was driven to
kill
for you! I beg you to understand!”

Angelica didn't reply. She raised the goblet to her mouth and took a sip. A drop of the dark wine trickled down her lip.

Finally she spoke. “You—you
killed
them?”

Simon nodded solemnly.

“But how?” she demanded in a tiny voice.

He hesitated. “I have powers,” he said simply. His hand tightened nervously around the goblet. Holding his breath, he stared at her, waiting for her to react.

To his surprise, Angelica's cat eyes narrowed and she uttered a scornful laugh.

“Angelica—?” he cried.

“You?”
she cried.
“You
killed them?” She laughed again, laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks. “You fool!” she declared, shaking her head. “It was not
your
powers that killed those two oafs! It was
mine!”

“What?” It was Simon's turn to gape.

“I killed them!” Angelica exclaimed through her tears of laughter. “I did it, not you! I have practiced the dark arts since I was a child. I knew I would never be allowed to marry you while James and Hamilton were around. And I knew that night at my party that you and I belonged together!”

“But, Angelica—!”

She raised a hand to silence him. “I could not marry James or Hamilton. They were both innocents, both lacking in imagination, both lacking the evil it takes to enjoy this world. So I cast spells. I murdered them both, Simon. I made James leap off our opera box railing. I made Hamilton fly off the pier into the paddle wheel. I murdered them for
you
—for
us!”

Simon swallowed hard in stunned silence. “I—I do not
believe
it!” he finally managed to choke out.

“We will combine our powers,” Angelica declared, raising her goblet.

“Yes, yes!” Simon agreed, quickly recovering from his shock. “Yes, Angelica, my dear. Together, nothing can stop us from getting what we want!”

Angelica's smile faded. “Only one thing can stop us, Simon, my love. One very powerful thing—my father. He will never approve of you. He wants to send me to Europe to get me away from you.”

“Come! Let us see him at once!” Simon cried, his dark eyes sparkling with excitement. He grabbed Angelica's hand and began to pull her.

“Simon, stop! Where are you taking me? We cannot see Father yet. We have no plan. Simon, we need a strategy!”

Ignoring her pleas, Simon pulled Angelica toward her father's bedroom. They stopped short in the doorway when they saw Henry Pierce lying sprawled on his back on the bedroom carpet.

His face was bright purple. His mouth was frozen open. His lifeless eyes gazed up at the ceiling like clouded glass marbles.

“Simon … I—I—” Angelica gripped Simon's sleevè. “Is he—dead?”

“The doctor will believe it was his heart,” Simon said softly, unable to keep a smile from forming on his handsome face.

“No!” Angelica cried, dropping to her knees beside her father's dead body. “Father!” She raised her eyes slowly to Simon.
“You
did it? You did it for me?”

“For us, my darling,” Simon replied. “I murdered
your father before I came into the sitting room. I knew it was the only way we could be together.”

“Oh, thank you!” Angelica cried, jumping up and throwing her arms around him. “We are wealthy now, Simon. We are wealthy—and free!”

They hurried back to the sitting room and raised their silver goblets. “Let us drink!” Angelica urged. “To us!”

She clinked her goblet against his. They both drank.

“Delicious,” Simon declared. “So bitter and sweet at the same time.” He smiled at her knowingly. “It isn't wine—is it?”

“No,” Angelica replied, returning his grin. “It isn't wine. It is blood.”

Simon snickered and stared into the goblet. “You are full of surprises tonight, Angelica.”

He wrapped an arm around her slender shoulders. Then they tilted the goblets to their lips and drank, allowing the rich, dark liquid to flow down their chins.

N
ora Goode dropped the pen and tried to stretch the cramps from her aching fingers. Yawning, she stared at the narrow window on the bare gray wall.

Morning sunlight cast a small yellow rectangle over the dark floorboards.

Soon they will be coming, Nora thought, turning her eyes to the door.

I must finish my story before they come. I must leave this written record for all to see.

The evil that has followed the Fear family through the generations must be known. Otherwise it will never stop.

She raised the crust of bread from the metal pan of food that had been left for her and dipped it into the cold, yellowish gravy. Stuffing it hungrily into
her mouth, she glanced at the stack of pages on the small desk.

So much more to write, she thought, picking up the pen and dipping it into the half-empty inkwell. The story of Simon Fear is so long and so frightening.

Simon and his precious Angelica were married in 1846. Now I must move my story to nearly twenty years later.

It is the year 1865. The War Between the States is drawing to a close.

Simon and his bride have moved North to Shadyside Village, where they built an enormous mansion in the woods, away from prying eyes. They used Angelica's money, of course.

They lived there with their five children: two daughters, Julia, seventeen, and Hannah, sixteen, and three sons, Robert, fourteen, Brandon, eleven, and Joseph, the youngest at five.

The family seemed happy and prosperous for a while. But with so much evil lurking within the walls of the Fear mansion, their happiness could not last.

Nora scraped the last of the yellow gravy from the pan. Then she picked up her pen, bent over her pages and began writing feverishly….