HORROR THRILLERS-A Box Set of Horror Novels

by Billie Sue Mosiman

Someone she could rule.

  CHAPTER 12

  LIFE IN A CITY

  Her name was Patricia. She was in her late twenties with good teeth and a strong, square, peasant's face. Angelique had disembarked the ship without incident and lost herself in the throng of people still on the streets late in the evening. She had no choice but to hide until morning, skulking like a little mouse behind dark corners and in the shadows of buildings.

  When morning came she walked the crowded streets eying single women, looking for a mother candidate. For how was she to live the way she wished without a mother? A child alone in a civilized society was no more than an orphan or a victim. Probably both.

  The woman caught Angelique’s eye. Patricia was an energetic beggar, rushing up to finely dressed men and women hoping for a small coin. “I am hungry,” she pleaded with such abasement, with such sincerity. “A coin, sir, a coin, lady, please. Have mercy.” Angelique watched her for hours before making a decision. Patricia was relentless. When she was given a coin she tucked it away in the pocket of her long, dirty skirts and again hit up the next passing pedestrians for more charity.

  Despite the dirt on her face and encrusted in the knuckles of her hands, the beggar displayed a modicum of self-awareness and determination that Angelique admired. This woman was a survivor. She would never starve. She felt no compunction about debasing herself, but she would always get by in this world.

  In the early twilight Angelique made her move. She walked up to the beggar woman and took her hand. The action so startled the woman that she pulled away and stepped back, staring down at the child. “What do you want?” she asked. “Go away, girl.”

  “I have a proposition for you,” Angelique said sweetly.

  “What sort of proposition could you propose that would in any way interest me? Go away, shoo.”

  The woman tried to turn, but again the child grabbed her hand. “I have money for you,” she said quietly.

  Now the woman paused, scrutinizing the foreign looking child. “You do not have money,” she said. “You are a lying little scamp. What‘s your game?”

  Angelique pulled the cloth bag from beneath her blouse and opened the top. As the woman bent from the waist to look in the bag, her face changed to show her astonishment. “Where did you get the gold?”

  “No matter, it is mine. I will pay you. If you do as I say I will keep you in luxury, train you to be a proper lady, raise you up in society. We will be partners.”

  The woman’s mouth hung open. Though it was obvious the child spoke Spanish as a second language, it was clear enough what she was saying. “I am listening.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Patricia.”

  “I am Angelique. I want you to pretend to be my mother. I have watched you all day and I know how well you act.”

  “Where is your real mother?”

  “I have none. I have no one. But if you will be my mother and do as I say, I will buy you fine clothes and give you money to rent us lovely apartments. This is not the last gold that I can get.”

  Patricia grinned revealing her large white teeth. It was a spectacular sight in a poor street beggar. Her hygiene habits must have been strict, despite the dirt on her hands. “That sounds all right with me, Angelique. I have always wanted my very own little girl.”

  “And I have always wanted to have a maidservant,” Angelique replied, turning to walk away. She must never let this woman get the upper hand. The woman followed, just as she was expected to do.

  Before dark fall they had shopped for a wardrobe for them both and secured a room in a lovely hotel. After a long bath and dinner in the hotel’s restaurant, Angelique sat at the table and further explained who and what she was to Patricia. She did not expect her to understand everything, but she would know enough to play her part, and to be afraid not to.

  The pact was made. Patricia held a new healthy respect for the child and the child was on her way in a new land, with a new mother, and a new future. There was fear now in Patricia’s face, but also recognition of a like-minded devil. Angelique would never entirely trust her, but for the time being Patricia was the best thing that had happened in Spain. She was a rough jewel ready for cutting and polishing. She would do just fine.

  #

  The apartment took up the entire lower floor of a genteel building not far from the center of the city. Patricia, playing her part, explained how her “husband” had died of a sleeping sickness in far-off Africa while in the Army, and how, as he had left her a vast fortune, she wanted a safe place to live with her little girl, Angelique. Many places were leery of single women with children, even if they claimed to be widows, but Patricia was so believable and elicited such sympathy that securing the apartment was a breeze.

  Angelique gave the largest bedroom to Patricia. “It would look funny if you didn’t have it,” she said.

  With a shake of her head so her dark blonde hair swung around her shoulders, Patricia said, “Okay then, if you insist.”

  Angelique set about giving the woman her lessons. “I can make people do things for me sometimes, if they are weak. Once we get invited to parties and outings, I’ll always come along--well, almost always--and find a man who is wealthy enough and weak enough for us to take down.”

  “How will we do that?” Patricia wanted to know. If she could have interested such a man on her own, she wouldn’t have needed this strange child.

  “Just leave it to me.” Angelique paused a second or so to make sure Patricia was totally willing. “Think of society as a ladder. We will move up it, one man by one man until we reach nearly the top. You don’t even have to marry them or…accommodate them. I’ll take care of everything. All you have to do is appear demure, gracious, polite, and intelligent. Witty, even. Only a little flirtatious. Think of yourself as an innocent woman endowed with extreme powers of sexual charisma. Can you do that?”

  Patricia smiled. She certainly did have a beautiful smile. With a mouth like that, pretty clothes, and an obedient, gifted child, she would be irresistible.

  “I think I can manage,” Patricia said.

  Just in case Patricia ever got it into her head to double-cross Angelique, she decided to put a good scare into her.

  “I know you’ll do as I ask because…”

  Angelique spread her arms, thinking of her wings so long lost. She knew they were there, but she had never used them, not once. It was now time to do so. She concentrated on the nubs of flesh in her shoulders and pushed. The nubs came from the skin without doing any harm, they pushed through the dress the same way, splitting the material without tearing, and as they rose, black and shiny as wet stone, the woman fell back, her mouth agape.

  Once the wings were fully extended, Angelique willed herself to leave the floor. Her feet dangled in little white cloth shoes inches above the polished wood.

  The woman’s mouth clamped shut with a snap and creases came between her eyes. “Wha…?”

  Angelique began to twirl, first slowly and then more rapidly. Oh how fun this was! She should have used her wings sooner, now remembering how powerful they were, how they gave her the freedom of flight. Finally she twirled so fast she looked like a small white tornado. As she spun, she went higher until she was almost to the vaulted ceiling.

  When she slowed again and lowered to the floor, Patricia was no longer in the satin-covered chair. She was on the floor on her knees, her hands in a prayerful position, eyes wide with terror.

  “My God, what manner of thing are you?” she asked, breathless.

  Angelique stepped closer and touched her shoulder. It was trembling. “I am an angel, mon cherie. I am your little angel. Do not ever disobey or betray me, yes?”

  Tears stood in Patricia’s dark eyes. “I never will disobey,” she whispered. “Never. Never.”

  “That’s good. We will have a splendid partnership. Splendid!”

  Angelique walked off toward the dining room where a table much too large for the two of them stood in the cente
r surrounded by six Spanish carved oak chairs. “I am hungry, Mother. I require food, please.”

  Behind her she heard the woman rise from the floor and hurry to the dining room. “Right away, dear child. Immediately! You must be fed.”

  Passing through the room, Patricia headed toward a door leading down a hall to a small kitchen. Angelique sat alone in one of the heavy, massive chairs, her legs dangling. How she loathed humans. Beings full of fear and greed and ignorance. Patricia was no more than a utensil, like a knife or a spoon. If she always did as she was told, without fail, she was a good spoon. Otherwise, she could be easily discarded, because there were so many spoons in the civilized world. Thousands of them. Maybe millions.

  CHAPTER 13

  Days of Decadence

  Within five years Angelique diligently moved Patricia up the strata of society until she was known and admired throughout the city. She had been provided with a suitable genealogy, making her the niece of a lord with holdings in Italy. At night Angelique read books to her mother and quizzed her the next day on what she’d learned. She taught her to dress, to walk, to speak. She taught her to drop old, bad habits. She turned her into a lady and even secured a wealthy husband for her.

  It took time, but Angelique found a way to have Patricia’s husband, her stepfather, write a will and include his stepdaughter in it as a beneficiary. Within a year he was found at the bottom of the stairs in his great mansion, his neck broken. Now Patricia was truly blessed with wealth, but only so much of it as Angelique let her use. The rest of it was turned into coin and stored in a wooden casket beneath Angelique’s bed.

  In her forty-third year, Patricia came down with a fever that would not abate, and after three days of illness, she passed away. Luckily her death was not witnessed by either physician or house staff. Angelique spirited the body away in the night and then took her monies and quietly disappeared from the mansion.

  She was rather sorry for Patricia and had wanted her to live a great deal longer. She had been such a good student, good mother. She always did as told and never caused Angelique a moment’s annoyance. Now Angelique was on her own again, a mere child cast loose in a society that did not always kindly treat its orphans.

  For a few weeks she was able to hide her gold and move about the city without drawing notice. She needed another woman, another mother. Her nights were cold and it was growing harder to find hiding places to rest her little body. She could not even secure a room for the night, though she had the money. No one would allow a child on their premises without a parent along.

  Finally she spied a man on the street who was so beautiful she stopped in her tracks to gaze. He had dark hair and very dark eyes. His face was perfectly shaped and chiseled. He wore fine clothes and carried a walking stick with a silver knob. When he passed her by, he winked, and her heart melted. She fell in love, instantly. She turned and ran after him, wondering as she did what story she could tell that might cause him to spend a little time with her.

  Having caught up, she tugged on his sleeve. He turned, saw her, smiled broadly. “What is it, little urchin?”

  “Sir, I’ve lost my mother in the market, and I wonder if you could help me find her?”

  He agreed so readily she hardly believed her good luck. She maneuvered him into a tea shop and took tea with him, pretending thirst and tiredness. She peeled back his history as if it were a banana, and he answered her questions softly, but she saw something in his eyes that gave her hope.

  “So you are not married and you dislike your position as clerk in the government?”

  “That’s right, my munchkin, but then who is happy in what he does?”

  “What would make you happy?” she asked.

  He laughed and slapped his knee. “I guess a rich, slovenly life would suit me best, my child, I am sure of it, but I don’t expect fortune to be so kind.”

  She asked him to accompany her to the edge of town, where she said she had something important to show him. Since it was his day off work, he obliged, walking jollily along, intrigued.

  “Just a little ways more and you’ll be very happy,” she said.

  In the edge of a wood, she began to kick at the dirt near a tree and the wooden casket’s lid was soon uncovered. “Check inside,” she commanded.

  The man, whose name was George, did as he was told. When he got the lid uncovered and opened, he sank back on his heels in surprise. Gold coins filled the casket’s interior, shining with its own light in the lowering evening.

  “My God, it’s a fortune!”

  Angelique smiled. She did not really need a mother. A father would do fine.

  #

  She loved George until the day he died at ninety-seven years old. By that time they had lived all over Spain and had made trips abroad. When their gold grew scarce, Angelique advised him how to refill the coffers and following her advice, he did. They owned land and farms and buildings. Money came to them without George ever having to work a day of his long life. As he aged and she did not, he grew more afraid of her, until finally she set him down and truly explained their situation. She was really angel, she said. She would never age. And she would live as long as her body was never struck down in accident or murder.

  “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 a
dopted 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.