The Black Rose (Angela), by A. Sethran

[qlipothica]

The Black Rose
by A Sethran


The waxing moon hung hideously in the black star specked sky, its light partly obscured by large ominous looking clouds that slowly sailed through the ebony ocean.

The winds were rocking every branch, sending a shower of golden leaves down upon the earth. They made their way through rows of lonely tombstones and passed over the slumbering dead.

Alone, beneath one of the large oaks, James Lowel sat and waited. Among the myriad legions of headstones, his eyes were fixed upon the one which bore the name of his betrothed, Angela Thompson.

#

On the eve before they were to wed, she had fallen ill. Angela's condition deteriorated so rapidly that by the time James had arrived at her parents home, she was already near death.

He entered the dimly lit room where her mother looked at him with swollen red eyes. Her father's face was stone and the doctor's expression foreboding.
"James...James!" she called out as pitiful moans rose up from her.

"I'm here, darling. I'm here..." he said.
Even by the faint light of the candles, he could see the ravages of the sudden illness on her beautiful face.
She lay on her death bed like a fallen angel. He knelt down by her and put his hand on her cold cheek. Her crystal blue eyes opened at once as a smile spread across her face as he brushed back her wavy blond hair.
"James.." her weak voice cracked.

"Don't try to talk," he told her, "Just rest. You will be fine, I promise," James added as he squeezed her cold delicate hand.

"I am so sorry," she told him, "I've ruined everything."

He replied, "No, don't say such things. We have our whole lives ahead of us. The wedding can wait. You must rest."

But the coming hours brought little comfort to anyone, as her condition only worsened. Her agonized moans filled the room as she tossed about covered in sweat.

The doctor motioned Angela's father outside the room. "I have done all that is in my power, Mr.Thompson. I believe it is up to the Lord, now. You may want to begin preparing..." he added sadly.

"I understand," he turned to one of the servants and ordered "Send for the priest now, and be quick."

Angela awoke one last time and called James to her deathbed. "James, I know that I am going to die," she told him as his eyes filled with stinging tears. "Promise me, my love, that you will never forget me?"

"Angela..," he choked out, tears streaming down his face, " I promise.." He took her hand once again.

"I'm so cold, James. So......" And a shadow fell across James' heart as he held onto her lifeless hand. He buried his head in her breasts and sobbed like a child.

On the day that was to be their wedding, James found himself looking at her lifeless shell, a perverse wooden cenotaph of the soul that had once inhabited it. He would carry her across the threshold, not into marriage but as a pallbearer. She would lay abandoned in the cold bowels of the earth.

"Ashes to ashes...dust to dust..The Lord giveth..and he taketh away.." As James listened to the priest, his fists began to clinch.The words had no meaning for him any longer. He looked contemptuously at her parents, who seemed able to lessen their pain by the priest's meaningless talk.Yes God took her, that much was clear.

#

James heard a sound which brought him back into the present.
He looked about the shadowy necropolis. Over the rustling leaves and hissing wind he could hear voices. The men he had met the evening before had come.

"There he is," one of them said, pointing to James. Two of them were shoddily clothed ruffians bearing shovels. The third man stood off from the other two. They approached him.

"There! It is that one," James said pointing to Angela's stone. One of them nodded.
Soon there was the sound of shovels stabbing into the earth and pitching up the freshly packed soil over Angela's grave.

The third man, who's name was Edward stood facing James, not saying a word. He wore a black hooded cloak that concealed all but his austere mouth. There was an uneasy silence between the two of them. He had met the three men the prior night.

#

After Angela's funeral James had begun to drink heavily. It was a practice that he was not at all accustomed to. "Why?!" he would demand as he slammed his fist upon the table drunkenly. "Why God? I prayed to you, but you didn't listen. She was everything to me and you took her away.. Damn you!"

He was inconsolable. After a while, even the people who knew him had given up, shuddering at his blasphemies.

One night there were three strange men who were passing through town. Two of them, solidly built and very ruff looking began eying James as he slumped over the table. He stared back at them suspiciously.
They talked very quietly amongst themselves as they drank their ale. The third man, of slender build with a very sickly complexion remained silent, nursing several glasses of whiskey with pale shaking hands.His light green eyes scanned the tavern craftily.
James felt a certain sense of dread in his stomach as their eyes met.

Perhaps the man had learned to recognize the look of a man who had lost everything dear to him. Maybe he had heard some of the other patron's conversations about James.

The man quickly sized up the situation and he motioned for a drink to be sent to James' table.
As a shot of whiskey was set in front of him James looked up at the man who said not a word, but sat motionless like a statue peering at him.
James, in no mood for anyones hospitality, emptied the shot glass and staggered to his feet. He passed the table with the three men and he slapped several coins on the table.

As he was leaving one of the men grabbed his arm firmly. "Hey mate, that's not very friendly of you, now is it?" he said with a scowl.
James' brow lowered as he jerked his arm away.

He clinched his fists as he said in a low voice, "You want something?" The two were just about to come to blows when the third man spoke.

His voice was slow and deliberate, it had an otherworldly tone to it. "The question is, my good man, what is it that you want?" he said. James looked at him in silence for several seconds, not sure of what was going to happen next.

James stared into his reptilian emerald eyes and said "You can't give me what I want."

"Perhaps... I can." He put out his white hand. "My name is Edward Kelly..."

The man looked out of place with the other two. He was well dressed, probably about 25 years of age, like James. But his face was ghastly pale, and his eyes had a very dim far away look in them. His morbid countenance made him look much older, like someone who has seen too many of life's horror at a young age and been left spiritually withered.
James took his hand nervously. That is how he met them.

At first, James could not decide if the man was a charlatan or a lunatic. Upon hearing James' sarcastic challenge "Can you return the dead to life?" his rigid mouth curved up into what could almost pass for a smile. One of his men ordered another round.
"Many things are possible, if one only has the will," Edward told his new bibulous friend.

"Your insane!" James barked out.
"Am I? Maybe you just lack the nerve, Mr.Lowel. Maybe I am insane," he taunted, "But if you walk out that door you will never know."

James could already hear the whispers in the tavern. The people seemed genuinely afraid of Mr. Kelly. It seemed his reputation had preceded him, even in this small town. The conversation grew much quieter as James decided to hear him out.

It soon became clear that Edward was not a lunatic in the common sense of the word. He was in fact an eccentric scholar of the esoteric. In that bone chilling, quiet voice, he claimed to have the knowledge needed. "But there is the small matter of payment for my services," he added, as he emptied another shot glass.

James could hardly believe that he was actually listening to this rouge. His wild talk both fascinated and repulsed at the same time. James had been left a sizable inheritance and the required amount was no obstacle to him. Angela's grave was deep in the cemetery, far from anyones view. He could easily bribe the man there and they would have all the time they needed.

"Then it is settled," Edward spoke, "Two o'clock".

"Two o'clock," James agreed.

#

As James lay in his bed, the stupor of alcohol faded into the numbing merciful embrace of sleep.
When he awoke the next day he contemplated what he had agreed to the prior night with the three strange men.

He had heard tales of such men as Edward, who were capable of necromancy, the reanimation of the dead. He had also been told the horrible spiritual price for it, for trying to take a soul back from God.
He sat alone in his quiet house, his head throbbing. He thought of all the lonely years ahead. He decided that come what may, he would look upon her one last time.

Maybe...there was a chance that Edward could do as he promised, and he could hear her voice, look into her eyes one last time.

#

[qlipothica]

Now James watched the men work. They were very big and strong and in no time they would have her out of the earth. Edward came to James, his eyes coming into view.

"And the matter of my payment?" he asked coldly.

"You get half now, and half when it's finished." James told him firmly. He handed Edward a small sack of gold coins and Edward nodded.

Soon the men had hoisted Angela's coffin out from the ground and it lay on the grass before them. They both sat down panting.

"And you are sure this is what you want?" Edward asked studying James' face.

The wind was growing colder, and beginning to howl. "More than anything in the whole world." he answered.

"I must tell you some things first," Edward sternly said, "She will return to you for one hour, no more. Do you understand?"

"Yes," James agreed.

"And you shall not touch her in any way." he added.

"All right," James answered, knowing he would not keep this part of the promise.

"At the end of the hour you are to stand aside and we will return her to her grave. You will pay us and never speak of tonight to anyone so long as you live," Edward concluded.

"Just bring her back to me. I'll do as you say," James answered.

Edward motioned for the other two men to wait outside of the gates. Their tough bravado seemed to be leaving them. They hurried on their way like frightened children without looking back. James was relieved. He had half expected the strange men to try to rob him and leave him for dead. He had brought along his pistol for protection.

"Forgive me, my love," James said as he took a crow bar and began to open the lid. It came open unexpectedly easy and the sudden odor of the rotting flesh nearly knocked James back.

He stood there in shock staring at her. She looked so peaceful. Her white face was like a porcelain doll's.
He brushed back her wavy blond hair. They had decided to bury her in the dress that she was to have wed in. For several minutes James was overcome with emotion. He felt a hand rest gently on his shoulder.

"Sometimes it's best if you don't look at them too close at first," Edward said as he led him back by the arm."It's time for me to begin now."

Edward took a long staff and began marking a large circle in the grass around the casket. He stood inside it and began speaking a language that James had never heard. It was very guttural with harsh vowel sounds punctuating in unexpected places. He seemed to be vibrating phrases and names. At times, the voice no longer sounded human at all, but bordered on the demonic, or perhaps insane.

At four points along the circle Edward stopped and traced some figures in the air. He thrust his hands through it while called out. When he was finished casting this circle, he knelt over Angela's body and began to anoint her with oil. He took a small vial which contained a special elixir from his cloak.
Kneeling down over the lifeless body, he gently opened her pale lips. Edward whispered something into her ear as he poured the elixir into her mouth.

"It is done!" he declared as he turned to James. "Remember, one hour. No touching," he reminded James as he sat far back in the shadows.

James went to her. The clouds had parted enough to spill out moonbeam upon them, by which he saw that death had not yet taken her fairness.

He called her, "Angela? Angela wake up, dearest!" But there was no reply. He cast a sharp look back at Edward, who stared back unmoved. James knelt down over her and began to caress her forehead. Edward's eyes squinted, no one ever listens he thought.

James heard a sound, very weak and faint, but unmistakably from Angela. It rose up from her, a sickly wheezing as her chest began to rise and fall once again. Ice ran up James spine. Her eyelids were starting to flutter, as if she were having a dream. What would he say to her? He hadn't really even decided. And now, her eyes were opened looking upon him, her cold pale arms raising from the coffin, her ivory like fingers clutching at his coat. He began to recoil in horror.

"Cold...James!" she called, "I'm so cold."

He regained his composure and grabbed her up in his arms, taking her from the stench of the coffin.
She was so light in his arms, like a child. Her hair hung down nearly touching the ground as he carried her underneath the oak where he had spent many a night alone since her death.

"Where am I, James?" she asked.

"I decided to get you some air," he answered. "Are you feeling better?" he asked.

"No. Everything is so dark, come closer, I can barely see you at all, James." her hoarse voice cracked.

James looked back at Edward who was shaking his head, sternly. James ignored him and brought her to his chest where their eyes were inches apart. The smell was nearly overpowering.

"I'm here, my love." he told her.

Angela's hands were around his waist. He could feel the icy fingers caressing him lovingly. "I can't move. I am so stiff." she complained.

"You just need to rest," he assured her. "Soon you will be all better. Then you and I shall marry. What a wedding it shall be," he smiled. She smiled back at him weakly.

It was starting to occur to her that something was very wrong. She had known James since they were children, and his eyes could keep nothing from her. He had in his eyes a fearful look, almost as if he were afraid of her. And a great sadness too. She looked around her at the neglected tombstones and wilted flowers. She began to stare with horror at her pale white hands, at the way that they glowed in the moonlight.

She began to notice the strange stiffness in her fingers, and all throughout her body. Her voice had changed and she could barely talk at all. Her nose caught the smell of rotting flesh that was coming from her own body.

Terror rose up in her heart as she realized what had happened to her. She recoiled in horror. "What have you done. Good Lord, what have you done!" she shrieked out, her weak voice distorted and cracking.

He tried to console her, but it was to no avail. Her voice was growing louder, the terror giving it more power as her shrieks burst through the night.
He buried her in his arms and the two of them cried together.

"I've missed you so badly," Edward told her. He told her all the things that he had thought he would never have a chance to say.

Edward was looking on from the shadows. "That damn fool. He should have listened to me," he thought as he checked his pocket watch. Had Edward not been so short on funds he would have never approached someone so unstable. Gambling, women and drinks were his only real pleasures in life. And his "gift" made it possible for him to live a life of indulgence.

If things did not get under control soon he would be swinging from the end of a rope. He had been caught before and barely escaped from the angry mob. Still, he did have sympathy for James. He had courage, not like those two imbeciles he had hired to accompany him. Edward looked away from the two and began rolling a cigarette.

James was explaining to Angela how much he missed her. She had calmed down somewhat. "We must go to my parents. They will be so happy that I am all right," Angela said.

"I am sorry, but we can't," he answered.

"What do you mean we can't?" she said hurtfully.

James looked back at Edward. His frown was visible even from this distance. He stood up and began walking towards them, his hideous green eyes seemed to cut through the dark.

"Mr.Lowels, it is now three o'clock. We have an agreement," he reminded James.

"James, who is that person?" Angela said clutching him tightly.

"A friend, my love. Someone who wants to help us," he answered.

"Mr.Lowels, do I need to call my assistants?" Edward threatened.

[qlipothica]

Already Angela could feel her limbs growing stiffer. Her eyes could barely make out James' face, even this close. His words were beginning to sound very fuzzy.
She struggled to her feet in spite of James' protests.
"James, what is wrong with me? I hurt so bad," she told him as the mask of death once again began to spread across her face, her voice growing hoarser.

"I'll give you money. I'm very wealthy. Anything you want, just help her," James pleaded.

"Mr.Lowels, there are certain limits to my services. No one can cheat death forever, you know that," he answered.

"What is he talking about? I want to go home! James. Take me home, please!" she yelled, her throat nearly cracking as she clawed frantically at his arms with her icy fingers.

"Just give me five minutes, Edward," he asked, "just five minutes, that's all I am asking".

"Five minutes you shall have, Mr.Lowel. Five minutes and no more," he answered. Edward returned to the shadows.

His hand was rubbing the pistol that he had brought. This could get very ugly. The young girl was already starting to deteriorate.

Edward knew that you could never lure the soul back into the body for very long. It would escape back to the creator. Without the soul all that would be left was a rabid corpse. He could see it beginning even now.

James began to whisper his plan into Angela's ear.

"Don't leave me, James! Don't leave me here! I am afraid!" she pleaded.

"I won't. I promise I'll never leave you," he said as he kissed her cold cheek.

Her mannerisms were desperate, becoming more animalistic by the second.

He pulled back his coat to reveal a silver gun at his side. She gasped. "He is going to help us, one way or the other," he said firmly, "Just let me do the talking".

"Edward!" he called. Edward rose to his feet and walked to them.

"We are ready.." James said holding Angela's hand.
Angela saw something she didn't like. James was growing afraid of her, his hand lightly holding hers as he subtly nodded to the strange man with the wicked eyes.

She could feel his hand beginning to slip out of hers as he started to move to the side. The man in the black cloak was coming towards her carrying a strange staff.

She put her arms around him and laid her head on his back. He could feel her loving hands on his waist. "I love you, James," she told him.

Her voice was so clear! The way it used to be. His eyes filled with tears as he turned back to her...
"Angela! I love...."

The sound of thunder filled the air. James watched a puff of smoke arise from the gun Angela's hand. She had gotten it from him. He fell at her feet. Blood started to ooze out from the small hole in his chest.
Edward drew his pistol and aimed it at her head.
She had thrown her gun down. She was quickly dragging James back to her empty hole.

James looked up helplessly at Edward. Angela had him in the hole. Edward was in such shock that he could only watch as Angela wrapped her white legs and arms around him like an albino spider catching pray.

"Stay with me...Stay....So..cold..." she hissed, sounding more like an animal than a woman. James expired quickly, a twisted look of fear on his face.
Repulsed Edward again raised his gun and aimed it at her head.

His two men had now returned and were staring in stark horror at the abominable sight before them.

Before Edward could pull the trigger Angela tossed something up from the grave at his feet. He could tell by the sound that it was a large bag of coins. She must have gotten it from James' coat.

He bent over and examined it, dumping some of them out into his hand.

"Fix....You fix...himmmmm" she continued to hiss, her mind degenerating more and more into an rabid animal.

She was growing louder. Edward nervously looked about fearing someone may hear her. He lowered his gun. The two of them stared at one another for several seconds until Edward slowly nodded his head.

He put the coins in his cloak and took out a the vial of elixir he had used on her earlier. He tossed it into the grave with them.

He gave a glance to his men. "Bury them...quickly."
They gasped.

"What? You can't be serious..." one of his men objected.

He aimed his pistol at one of them and repeated, "Do it!".

And as the clouds once again blocked the light from the waxing moon, the sounds of shovels and earth being packed once again broke the heavy silence.
Edward kept the gun pointed at his men all the while until the job was finished.

He watched as Angela lovingly put the vial to James' lips, and then to her own. She rested his head on her breasts and began to caress it lovingly.

Soon the dirt began to cover their faces as James began to stir slightly.

As the men made their way out of the cemetery they could barely hear the screams of terror coming from under the freshly packed earth.