Still, he looked extremely happy—or at least did, as much as one could tell with an imp.
Brutus had never gotten the hang of silverware, so Hubert usually had to cut up his meat for him, which tended to get them very odd looks. But, tonight, the dogman was watching Kitty carefully and trying manfully to get it right. He still occasionally ate off the knife, though.
Because Armand had little appetite, he mostly watched them or the room. He had to admit that, like the rest of the ship, the restaurant was very attractive.
The room had the air of an expensive hideaway for the wealthy to enjoy their steaks—which was sort of true. There were velvet chairs and a curving row of giant windows looking out to sea. Had he not been so nervous about what they were facing, he might have enjoyed it.
Once they had reached a point where food was no longer a primary concern, Miss Janeway summed up.
“As best as I can follow, normally, the ship has ghosts, but they don’t bother anybody except the very psychically prone.”
She was cutting up her over-dry chicken—which she had ordered that way, to the cook’s horror—into tiny little bites. It did keep up her cover of eccentric little old lady very well.
“But, in the past few months, something has stirred up the ghosts to the point where they’ve started attacking and even killing the living. From what Kitty sensed today . . .”
The ex-cat looked very proud of herself, and Armand was ashamed. He should have given her a bigger role a long time ago.
“. . . while there are several active ghosts, the main possible trouble spots are the one near the railing—which, admittedly is disturbing since it’s where the one guest recently fell to his death—and the maintenance worker who wants to get off the ship.”
It was a neat summary but left some things out. “What about Annabella’s experience in the propeller room?” Armand pointed out.
“Mm,” Miss Janeway murmured, seeming to agree. “I probably should have come with you there. I was busy getting what I could from Detective Chamberlin.”
“What did you find out?” Annabella wondered.
“Mostly what you’d expect. The first two victims had heart attacks, but there’s not really a coroner’s finding for ‘died of fright.’”
Annabella grimaced, which Armand found oddly adorable. Then again, everything Annabella did was adorable.
“And the third fell to his death,” she added, bringing him back to this more gruesome topic.
“Quite so.” Miss Janeway nodded.
All except the ex-animals, who were determinedly eating, sat back to think about this.
“Are there any cases like this before?” Annabella wondered.
Everyone shook their heads, only Armand voicing what they knew.
“Often, when there’s something more happening, like a demon at work, any ghosts will start to become more active. Sometimes, they’re helping the demon and sometimes trying to prevent more damage.”
“Like the little girl ghost when Beatrix was trying to sacrifice me to the family demon,” she nodded, then added for him alone, Wow, that makes me sound insane.
Most of us were there with you, remember? And all of us know those things are real.
He thought about it for a moment.
Just don’t start saying that around the mundanes.
Giving him a look while Hubert asked what she meant, she moved the spoken conversation on.
“There was a little girl who came to me a few days before Beatrix’s demonic ceremony.”
Looking around for any listeners, she obviously saw that their spells were intact.
“She was one of Beatrix’s former sacrifices. Eventually, she guarded Armand and myself as we were waiting for the ceremony.”
For a moment, she looked lost in the terrible memories. Then, shaking her head, she came back to her point.
“Anyway, her grave was in the backyard, but I’d never seen her before that day.”
“So dispelling Beatrix was your doing,” Miss Janeway murmured, staring at her curiously, and Armand wasn’t quite sure what was behind the look. “She had quite a lot of blood on her hands.”
As Beatrix had been a serial murderess and demon worshiper who had sold the souls of many victims to her master, these weren’t pleasant memories. That she was also his great-grandmother made Armand want to move this conversation on even more. Of course, she’d lost track of her offspring enough to think him only her grandchild, but he supposed that would happen when you counted your life in centuries. The less he remembered of any of it, besides meeting his beloved Annabella, the better.
“Ghosts are often more active then, but they’re not usually . . .” he began.
Nothing else he said could be heard, as an impressively-large woman with dyed orange-red hair was now practically shrieking at a waiter. True, she had clearly been rude the entire meal, but now there was no ignoring her.
“I told you, Reginald. I will not put up with such treatment!”
All of them just glanced at each other before watching like everyone else in the room.
“Carlotta Munson from down the street said she came here and saw two ghosts! I’ve seen nothing! And now my steak is overdone, and there’s a thumbprint on my fork!”
Why she felt any of this was something to shriek about was a mystery to all of them.
Her husband—or whomever the cringing man near her might be—said softly, “yes, dear.”
He winced, as she got up, slammed down her napkin, which made much more racket than should have been possible, and stormed out, screaming, “I’m going to give your restaurant and your hotel one star!”
Hubert sighed.
“That’s why you’re needed as the Duke, Armand. If that woman had married the right person instead of entering a relationship where both of them are miserable, she would be at least 20% less shrill and 80% less irritable.”
He glanced back to his friend.
“That’s what you’re saving the world from when you start connecting soulmates.”
Armand supposed so but didn’t know what to say. While he saw the need for the dukedom, he was no happier being chosen for it.
Still, the scene had certainly broken up both their meal and their speculations. Everyone agreed to keep an eye out and then report back on what they’d learned in the morning.
Everyone except Armand, Annabella, and Kitty left, the imp going with the older woman, who seemed to like his company.
After the woman was well gone, Annabella asked, “Armand, do you have any idea what Miss Janeway is?”
It would have been an odd question some places but not when it came to those working for the Council.
“I assume she’s not really an old woman,” Annabella added.
As Armand had absolutely no idea—having never met or heard of her before—he couldn’t answer, but he did look to Kitty. It was finally time to start listening to the ex-cat’s insights.
“What does she smell like?”
Kitty thought for a moment. “Justice,” she said finally and then left as well.
“Well, that was confusing,” Annabella murmured. “And should she really be allowed to be alone?”
Taking her hand, Armand sighed. “I’ve covered her with protection spells, and I suspect she’s going to catch up to Hubert and Brutus.”
Anyway, he hoped so. They had enough to worry about here without the disappearance of his cat.
Chapter 8
Annabella
They went to bed that night far earlier than Annabella was used to or expected—although, given that she was sharing her bed with Armand, she wasn’t really complaining.
It was about midnight, however, when she started to hear music.
Cracking one eye vaguely open, she noted that it sounded like there was a full orchestra somewhere and remembered that they hadn’t been able to see inside the Grand Salon because they were setting up for an event. Especially since she was a whole two floors above it, she hadn’t re
alized how loud it would be.
“Armand?” she asked, wondering if she were the only one it was distracting.
Apparently, the answer was “yes,” since he continued to sleep peacefully.
Damn, he’s cute when he sleeps.
Grinning to herself, she kissed him on the nose before she got up, slipping on a robe. Armand didn’t stir, so she didn’t bother him. If he could sleep through the odd, echoing music from the orchestra, all the better.
Still, once she was up, she wasn’t really certain what to do with herself. Turning on the TV would definitely wake him.
Maybe I’ll just wander around the internet.
This plan was stymied when she couldn’t locate her laptop—or Armand’s, for that matter.
Shrugging, she guessed it wasn’t important. Maybe she’d go down the hall and see if there was a drink machine or something.
Once she was out in the broad corridor—made for another century’s luxury travel, its wooden walls gleaming, carpeting lush and inviting beneath her feet—the music was even louder. It was a strange, lilting song with a lot of repeating refrains, and with a big band playing it, and the ship’s steel amplifying it, it was almost eerie.
Not even noticing that she was still in her bathrobe, she started wandering toward it. Some of the old-fashioned, Art Deco light fixtures flickered a bit, but the music was so hypnotic she barely noticed.
By halfway down the hallway toward the stairs to the Grand Salon, she was humming along.
The closer she came to the event, as well, the more people she saw, but no one made any comment on how she was dressed.
Around her, the music swelled, leaving her feeling like she was swimming through it.
And she couldn’t help but notice that the attendees to whatever this party was were odd. While there were a few couples, mostly it was just single people standing around, usually not even in groups. Strangely, they weren’t dancing or celebrating, just wandering, like her. And none of them seemed to be dressed for an event, either.
It was a bizarre scene, a little like something out of a zombie movie, although thankfully without the undead elements.
Each in their own little world, the crowd shuffled around. She even thought she saw the woman who’d made such a fuss at dinner standing by the check-in desk, quiet finally and staring at her with horrified, begging eyes. But she still said nothing before turning away.
A moment later, the music swelled yet further, blotting out whatever other thoughts Annabella had had.
Shifting toward the Grand Salon, she moved toward it, nearly to the stairs. Its call was unmistakable, so maybe that was where she was meant to be.
Halfway to the stairs, someone cried out to her.
“Miss! Ma’am! Please!”
Looking over, she saw a tall, attractive man in a full suit out of another era—the 1930s, maybe? She really did need to study some more history—calling to her from the doorway to the deck.
“Please! Leave! You’ve still got a chance!”
No one else seemed to notice, shuffling by, a constant tide of them down the stairs, although there was one elegant couple in full evening wear twirling to a slightly different rhythm to her side, lost in their own little world.
Glancing back toward the stairs which would lead her down to the Grand Salon, she understood. That music seemed so enticing . . .
“Please! You can go! You’re not trapped here yet!” the man urged her desperately. “You don’t have to . . .”
“Annabella!” she heard screamed into her ear by what seemed to be an almost-crazed Armand, for the second time today. And she suddenly sat up to realize that she was still in bed, only now with everyone who had been with her at dinner staring at her worriedly.
She was also entirely naked.
Pulling up the covers with an “ummm,” she saw Armand nearly collapse from relief and Hubert stop rubbing reassuringly over Kitty’s back to grab Annabella’s robe. Miss Janeway turned away to give her a moment, as she slipped out of bed and into it. Hubert looked but only to get the garment on correctly. Then again, naked women weren’t his thing, anyway.
As soon as she was on her feet and covered, Armand grabbed her into a nearly-violent hug.
“I couldn’t wake you.”
His gravelly voice was lost in her sleep-tousled hair, and his arms encircled her further, as he held her even tighter.
“Please don’t scare me like that.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t . . .”
But she wasn’t certain that telling him that she had no idea what had happened was really going to make him feel any better.
Apparently, it didn’t, as he only held her tighter.
The group gave them a moment, before he finally let her go. Still, he took her hand in a way which said he wasn’t letting her get very far right now and took a seat with her on the sofa in their suite’s sitting room.
Once there, Annabella noticed that Kitty was on her other side and looking extremely worried. Since Armand was right and she really couldn’t pet a human without comment, she leaned over and kissed the ex-cat’s cheek, then took her hand and finally watched her start to calm down.
I don’t know if she’s grown attached to me this quickly, or if she’s just anxious about you, Annabella noted to her partner, but he was too tense and worried to answer.
“Tell us what happened, if you can, dear,” Miss Janeway requested sweetly.
Sitting on her lap was the imp she’d so taken to, and she was petting it like her favorite cat.
Ivan looked extremely happy. Poor Kitty watched them nostalgically.
Annabella did, as much as she could remember. A lot of the details of faces and dress were a little foggy.
“I mostly remember the song that was playing,” she finished. It still seemed to echo loudly in her mind.
“You were humming one before you woke. Was that it?” Miss Janeway, apparently everyone’s chosen, polite inquisitor, went on.
“I don’t know.” She hummed what was still in her head. “Is that the same one?”
Everyone looked decidedly creeped out, and she decided that was probably a yes.
“Is this it?” Hubert asked, playing something on his phone.
Annabella smiled briefly.
Ah, thank you, internet.
“Yes, that’s the one,” she agreed.
Hubert examined his phone curiously.
“It says it’s a song by Johnny Mercer and Henry Mancini. ‘Charade.’” He shrugged. “Apparently, it was written for some movie in the early ‘60s.”
Looking up, his confusion was obvious.
“That’s a little late into the Queen Mary’s life, isn’t it?”
No one had an answer for a moment.
“Message?” Kitty half-meowed.
“Kitty, dear,” Miss Janeway prompted.
“Sorry.” She took a deep breath. “Maybe the title is a message to us?”
Everyone stared at each other. In a way, it made sense, but if the murders and hauntings themselves weren’t the real end to this and were only some game being played to hide the truth, what terrible thing was actually going on?
“I’m afraid that’s not all,” Miss Janeway cut in, everyone clearly agreeing on the frightening implications of the message Annabella had gotten.
The older woman only had the shawl with the bunnies and lambs embroidered into it over her very Victorian nightdress tonight, but it was pulled around her tightly.
“The woman you do remember seeing there, the one who was making a bit of a scene in the restaurant . . .”
Annabella nodded. She was hard to forget.
“Detective Chamberlin roused me a little while ago.”
Heart thumping, eyes widening, Annabella feared what was coming.
“She was found dead.”
Watching, Annabella saw the chill she felt pass through the entire group.
“I’m afraid our ghosts have taken their next victim.”
Chapt
er 9
Armand
Through all this, Armand had said nothing, because he was much too overwhelmed. Seeing Annabella possessed earlier in the day had been bad enough, but that she had apparently also had her soul hijacked while she was sleeping made all hope of keeping her safe that much more terrifyingly uncertain.
In some ways, he realized, he’d never fully dealt with his fears from the first few days when he’d met her, when Beatrix had been trying to steal her soul. True, they had removed the demon mark from her, had denied that unholy sacrifice, but it had never occurred to him—possibly because he just couldn’t stand the thought of it—that all those years of compulsion she’d lived under, in the childhood home Beatrix had kidnapped her to, might have also left her as an easier mark when something evil wanted to sneak its way into the living world.
Once he finally made himself stop internally screaming, he tried to focus. “As I see it, we need to do three things.”
That he hated some of them wasn’t really important.
The room waited.
“Tonight’s victim had been making a scene and a nuisance of herself. We need to find out if the previous victims were the same. Or, if not, we need to see if they’re connected in any other ways.”
“Detective Chamberlin will be the one to ask there,” Miss Janeway nodded. “I’ll see what I can discover.”
“Let Hubert come with you. You can say he’s your nephew or something.”
Miss Janeway laughed as though this would not be the first time for such a ruse but said nothing.
“He’s got experience, and he’s a lawyer, just in case we need that,” Armand continued, to be certain she understood.
Everyone looked at him as though they had no idea how that might be, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Whatever she might be in reality, Miss Janeway was also a bit of an archetype—and her particular archetype often ended up getting accused simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Sorcerers, Spirits, and Ships Page 6