“Yes, I am recovering, but the more evidence we find in this house, the better I’ll be.”
“Just give me a moment, Eve,” Maggie said through Arielle, her cadence and intent clear. “I’ll be right with you. But I need the good reverend’s help a bit more, please.” Maggie flung Arielle’s hands out, reaching for Coronado.
“Yes, Margaret,” he said, instantly by her side again, taking up Arielle’s hands, but it seemed clear the reverend saw beyond the body to the soul that had taken up within. It was as overdone as a vaudeville melodrama, but Eve couldn’t help but be warmed by the connection.
Early on in Eve’s friendship with Maggie, the ghost becoming Eve’s best and only true friend, the spirit had noted her only regret about life was that she’d never truly had a romance. Not a good, pure one. She’d been taken advantage of but never held dear. What was happening now was dear.
“I just need a little momentum. Perhaps you can pull me. Draw me to you, dear Reverend?” Arielle’s mouth murmured, but it was clear Maggie was the one asking to be drawn to the handsome cleric.
Everyone in the room save for Coronado turned away, as if they were all listening to something deeply private that they shouldn’t be.
“Is she better?” Alfred Prenze asked from the doorway, a ledger tucked under his arm.
“We’re almost there,” Coronado said brightly. He was the most affable, radiant man Eve had ever met; there wasn’t a soul who could look upon his utterly gorgeous face and not see his kindness, lighting him from within.
“Good,” Alfred murmured and shuffled to the detective, handing him the ledger. “When I awoke from my stupor, Arielle showed me Albert’s office, the back room I thought was locked and forgotten. This was in the safe, tucked behind bonds. But I think this ledger will draw the last connections you need, noting accounts and withdrawals. The accounts…life savings, everything those poor artists had in his deluded organization. Drained. He was a vampire, Albert. Once he drained the money, he let those sad, lost souls fade away, using them to advantage. His thrall is a cancer. He was always testing the limits of people, but I never thought it was as drastic as all this. How do we prosecute that quality? How do we stop his mesmeric persuasion?”
“I’ve been told the spirit world saw to the removal of his powers,” Eve replied. “He’s now an average soul who must face justice. And, despite all his efforts, he still sees ghosts.”
Alfred nodded wearily. “I see. Let me know what you need. In the meantime, I’m going to get Prenze tonics back in the business of trying to ease suffering, not creating it.”
He shuffled away, and Eve hoped he had the strength to make good on it.
“All right, then,” Coronado said gently, pulling on Arielle’s hands and murmuring a benediction in several languages, as if for good measure. Arielle’s hands gave way to silvery, luminous hands and Maggie was pulled up and out and floated now before the reverend, her head bent toward him as he looked up.
Arielle lay back and drifted into an immediate, peaceful sleep.
The reverend now stood face-to-face with the spirit that had asked for him.
“Hello,” they both murmured, a reunion of old friends, something stirring in their souls that transcended this moment, time stopping for soul mates. Eve had never witnessed anything quite like it. Maggie and Coronado were far more forward than she had been, being so affected by Jacob, yet they didn’t seem awkward.
All of them, Jacob included, seemed to have a better, more sensible relationship to infatuation than Eve did. She still felt as though she was fumbling and flailing whenever she looked at the man she loved. Glancing at him, she saw him staring at Coronado, who appeared as though he was holding thin air. He was. But the spirit there was just as powerful as touch, in her own right.
Jacob came close to Eve and touched her on the elbow, leading her away from the tender moment. “Let’s search the premises while we still can.” Blessing nodded at them, gesturing they go on. If he was uncomfortable, he masked it by a serene patience.
They found Albert’s room, the torture devices against ghosts, and another device like what had been placed outside Eve’s office: prime evidence that would be added to what Fitton and his associates gathered on the bridge. They then descended to see the prison lined in metal.
“While it proves his cruelty, I know his actions against the dead cannot be prosecuted, nor can anything I witnessed inside his head,” Eve said, reaching out to touch the smooth metal wall. The phantom sensation of electrocution vibrated over her, and she withdrew her hand with a hiss.
“Still,” Jacob said, taking notes in his leather-bound casebook, “this builds a profile we can bring to an Alienist to explain. Courts are warming to Alienist testimony these past few years.”
Eve nodded. “Whether they’ll warm to a Spiritualist is yet to be tried. I’ll need every precedent this century has offered.”
Maggie floated across the threshold of the basement toward Eve, looking rather pleased with herself. “Well wasn’t that an adventure,” she said with a laugh. “What a beautiful soul.” Before Eve could ask Maggie to clarify who she meant, she continued. “Arielle, poor thing, is now sleeping soundly. Having endured quite the reckoning, she’s earned a rest.”
“We all have,” Eve agreed. “Come, let’s go home. I must see Gran and the girls.”
“Oh, I can’t bear another minute of this house,” Maggie said. “This prison was the first place I was transported to. The pain in this room continued to tear me apart. Only my prayers got me out; Sanctuary heard me and drew me to it. Now let’s hear what Gran has done with it.”
As they exited, Maggie was humming a waltz and flouncing about in the air ahead of them.
“You’re chipper,” Eve murmured with a knowing smile.
Maggie glanced between Eve and the detective. “You’ve finally stopped ignoring the obvious, I see. Good. You’re very good together, you two, so don’t disappoint me,” Maggie declared before vanishing into a hedgerow.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Gran, Antonia, Jenny and Cora were all in Eve’s parlor when Eve and the detective returned to Fort Denbury, and the joy was palpable. After rounds of embracing, each had stories to tell about the past day, about the wires at Sanctuary and what the spiritual explosion looked like from their end.
Eve and Jacob agreed not to tell Gran everything, for fear she’d never let Eve out of the house again without having employed a hundred guards. Even so, Gran looked at Eve with such scrutiny she feared the woman would uncover everything regardless. She had to promise Gran many times that she was all right; only begging Cora to share her news of the Tombs shifted the focus.
Cora took a stiff drink of port before speaking. “I…touched Prenze while he was still unconscious, while Fitton was securing him in the Tombs. I saw many last moments. He often liked to watch who he coerced toward death,” Cora said, shuddering and downing the last of the glass. “Zinne. Font. Drained or poisoned. There were a few glimpses of others, less clear, it became a blur; but the names that were a part of our cases stood out the most. It was the control of it, I suppose, his watching the expiration.”
“There was an unhealthy obsession with death, I think, that was formed from his childhood,” Eve said. “Things I saw when his mind was too open to me. I’m sorry you had to face the nightmares of what he became in so direct and visceral a fashion.”
“Fitton saw how affected I was and offered to take a walk with me along the harbor and share all the details of the case I found relevant. He’s a good man.”
“The best I know,” Jacob agreed.
“I think it is always wise to walk with a person of kindness after having witnessed and felt such a person of cruelty,” Cora said. “I would have come home, but I wasn’t far from one of my cousins and I stayed with her. Not a lick of paranormal ability in her and I think I needed the fresh air. I knew you we
re…” Cora glanced at Jacob and back to Eve. “Taken care of.”
“I don’t feel abandoned.” Eve laughed. “I pushed you all away anyway.”
“And you won’t do it again.” Cora lifted a finger toward her.
“I won’t. Forgive me?”
“Always,” Cora replied, embracing her.
“Thank you for everything, my rock, my unfailing soldier.” Eve kissed Cora’s temple.
Smiling, surprised, Cora did the same. “We live what we were born for.”
“That we do,” Eve stated and moved to Gran, who was staring out the bay window. “You’re far away, Gran. Are you all right?”
“It pains me I wasn’t with you. I know you’re not telling me everything.”
Eve took Gran’s empty teacup and handed it to Jenny, who swept forward with a fresh one, the little one always attentive, especially to Gran.
“If Sanctuary had been harmed, I’d never forgive myself,” Eve countered, handing her the tea. “Neither would you. We had to be separated. I stand by that.”
Gran seemed unconvinced, frowning. Eve knelt before her, all elegance on a Queen Anne throne, and looked up at her, speaking directly.
“Please don’t act like you’re still the warrior you were with Mother. There are things you can’t withstand now. There are things that might have killed you today were you not where you were.” Gran’s frown deepened, and Eve changed the subject. “Did you go in? Did you meet Lily Strand in Sanctuary? Did they hail you as the heroine of the portal, the reason it’s tied to that arch?”
Here, finally, Gran smiled. “It was glorious. It was Saint John! Finished and…everything my heart could have hoped for. And I did meet Lily, guide and guardian. She was mysterious, and protective of the spirits, which I understand. She pushed me out before the spirit deluge. We were so exhausted after that we stayed with Clara and Rupert, to be close if the spirits needed us to return.” Her hand fluttered over her heart. “I could feel you were…safe. But still—”
“Gran. We have to split up the team if we expect to get anything done.” She leaned in and whispered in her best friend’s ear. “Besides. It earned me time alone with Jacob.”
At this, Gran laughed. “I knew he’d never agree to part from you, and it does my heart good to see it.”
They both glanced at Jacob, who was looking over at them but hastily looked away as if pretending he hadn’t been trying to listen in.
“Don’t be nervous, dear boy; it’s only good things,” Gran called to Jacob. He strode toward them, pausing at the samovar to pour Eve a fresh cup of coffee and handing it to her.
“My constant hero,” she murmured, taking it.
“Yes, my hero too,” Gran added. “While I know you’re holding back details, I assume you think for my benefit, I am grateful for your not leaving Eve alone as she’d demanded.”
He offered his most disarming smile, the kind that had weakened Eve’s knees from the start. “I will always respect your granddaughter’s wishes unless those wishes put her in grave danger, in which case I will respectfully navigate my way around them to ensure her safety.”
Gran embraced him with a laugh.
Forever drawn to a lively parlor, Cy appeared at the piano—his altar. Soon jig, hymn, and popular song filled the room with clairaudient melody. Music issued from the spirit world sounded far away but nevertheless lovely, carrying a poignance that music from live hands couldn’t evoke or imitate.
Antonia had utilized meditative time in the kitchen to a delicious result, and fruit tarts were enjoyed heartily over more tea, coffee, wine, and liqueur.
Everyone was chatting excitedly in the parlor save for Jenny, who was contentedly sketching a field of flowers. More often than not, her sketches were scenes of death, morbidity, or some message from the beyond that chose her as a channel. If she sketched pretty things it meant she was at peace.
Bringing a sweet treat to the console table near her, Eve kissed her on the head and whispered, “That’s beautiful.” Jenny smiled and shaded the wings on a butterfly.
Eve looked around, her soul full, content. For what might have been the first time in her entire life, inside her heart and spirit, there was balance. Leadership and allowance. Shared responsibility. A willingness to accept risk on all sides. Dare she say she was excited for what was next?
Jacob stepped up to her side once more. “It seems all is well,” he said. “We’ve a trial to prepare, more than enough to convict, and more than enough time to manage it. In the meantime…” Jacob reached in his pocket and handed Eve tickets. Carnegie Hall. Tomorrow night. A Tchaikovsky encore.
“Oh, Jacob,” she murmured. “How did you find time amid saving my life to replace our concert tickets?”
He chuckled. “I had them already, Eve. When you agreed to go to the park with me, I bought several, for the rest of the year, so I’d always have something to tempt you with.”
“You don’t need tickets to tempt me, Jacob,” Eve said under her breath. “I think we proved that.…”
Jacob sighed gleefully as if that was just what he’d wanted to hear.
Maggie wafted in the window, floating over to kiss Eve, then Jacob, on the cheek with a cold peck. He blinked rapidly and turned his head. While he had grown more attuned to the appearance of presences, he couldn’t pinpoint them. But the temperature was palpable. “Did I…just…”
“Get a kiss from a ghost? Yes.”
“He’s very handsome, Eve,” Maggie declared, offering a devilish grin. “You know, if you like, I could always practice kissing him so that he gets even better about sensing ghosts.”
Eve brandished a finger in Maggie’s incorporeal face. “You brat. Stick to your reverend.”
“Oh, I will,” she declared and floated over to a line of cordials in delicate flutes that Antonia had poured. The ghost tried to stick her tongue into one before Antonia admonished her with a squeal.
“But I miss cordial as much as anything in life!” Maggie cried with a pout, sticking an incorporeal finger in the open decanter and touching it to her tongue, a tiny droplet of red liqueur dispersing in vapor. Antonia swiftly corked the decanter, but Maggie just pursed her lips and stuck her finger through the side of the bottle and did it again.
Jenny laughed louder than Eve had ever heard come out of her mouth, Zofia floating at her side, giggling along with her.
A pang for Vera and Olga pierced Eve’s heart and sobered her. She wished with all her heart they were there with them. Then a thought occurred to her she couldn’t ignore.
“Now that we’re here, reunited,” she said to Jacob, “I’ve an instinct to hold a séance, now that it’s safe. Do you mind?”
“Go ahead. This is your calling. I stand by in support, and at the ready.”
She touched his face. “You are sublime. Everything I could hope for.” He took her hands in his and kissed one then the other. Eve sighed, delighted by his every ministration. “I am so grateful for you,” she murmured before turning to her friends.
“My dears,” Eve called. The separate conversations all paused as colleague and spirit turned to her. “I’d like to hold a séance, reunited here with all of you as the great threat of our current cases is neutralized. He obliterated all else. But there surely are other voices that have needed us. There are surely injustices we need to follow. Will you join me?”
She raised her hands, and the mediums of the Ghost Precinct glided to their chairs as if drawn in a dance to their circle.
Cora brought forth the séance items Prenze had stolen and left on the bridge.
“Thank you for collecting them,” Eve murmured.
Cora nodded and offered blessings in French; then she struck the match, lit the candle, watched it leap to life, and blew out the match, interpreting patterns in the smoke.
Eve gestured for Antonia to ring the bell. She reache
d forward and did so, the clarion call to service.
Jenny turned her sketchbook to a blank page for automatic writing, ready for those who did not wish to manifest voice. Dear spirit world, she wrote.
“Dear spirit world,” Eve echoed. “We have been through so much together. I am sorry for the ways in which I faltered. Show us what you hope for us in triumph. Guide us toward what we were forced to neglect. What of this oft-troubled city needs us most?”
The Ghost Precinct and its remaining operatives looked at one another, with excitement and resolve, as air grew cold and their hearts warmed to the entrance of spectral friends bearing tidings of good work to be done.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to my editor Elizabeth May and the Kensington team for enthusiasm and support along the way! Alexandra Kenney and Lauren Jernigan, supreme publicity mavens, you are so dearly appreciated, thanks for all the help, facilitating and signal-boosting. Thanks to Lou Malcangi for the amazing cover art!
Deepest of heartfelt appreciation to my fantastic, thoughtful and incredibly helpful sensitivity readers Brina Starler, Elizabeth Kerri Mahon, Sebastian Crane and Ashley Lauren Rogers. You are stars in my sky.
Endless thanks to my agent Paul Stevens with Donald Maass, thanks for guiding my way.
To my incredible family, I couldn’t have a better support system in all the world. Love you more than words. To my birthday-twin Marijo Farley, thank you for always being there for me no matter what.
Empyrean appreciation to my Torch and Arrow business partner Thom Truelove for meticulous, swift and thoughtful research and brainstorming, you’re a wonderful resource to say the least.
Spooky thanks to Andrea Janes, founder and CEO of Boroughs of the Dead. Not only is it a pleasure to work for Boroughs of the Dead, acclaimed ghost tour company here in our beloved New York City, but I’m so grateful that you seek to honor the dead as I do and can never resist a good haunt and all the history it brings in its wake. Thank you for all the support and signal-boosting through the years.
A Summoning of Souls Page 29