Beatrice held up a hand. “Our tongues were literally shackled. Our powers gone. Our work done. When you arrived, we were again normal citizens. You see, two Guard are never in the same city. It has never happened like this, there has never been a Prophecy as such, the goddess, Our Lady, never took such a chance as this. It is an unprecedented time. An unprecedented future is before us. And the next phase of battle is at hand.” Percy’s heart sank as she translated.
“Haven’t we fought enough?” Michael murmured.
“It’s just begun,” the spirit replied. “The Whisper-world is a hazardous place, and war must be brought into your mortal hands to settle the score once and for all.” Here Beatrice looked at Percy, which did not go unnoticed.
“And this secondary score commences when?” Alexi asked coolly. “And how may we avoid it? I’ll not put my bride anywhere near further danger.”
Beatrice fixed him with a deep stare, profound sadness on her face. “You know as well as I that there’s no avoiding this. We were bound to serve vengeful gods.” She turned with a look that was neither amenable nor even kind as Percy repeated her words, breathless, shrinking from that withering stare. “Tell me something, my lady.” Beatrice leaned in, narrowing her eyes. “Do you remember anything of your former existence—the one you relinquished to become what you are now?”
“No,” Percy answered, recalling that Alexi had once posited the same question. “I am no divinity. Please, I’m flesh and blood and don’t understand what’s happened to me or why, so please don’t expect knowledge of a woman I never was, a woman I’m not,” she blurted, visibly shaking as she clutched the tablecloth. Alexi stilled this by placing his hand atop hers.
Beatrice sighed, and her hard stare softened.
“Then you, too, are nothing more than a pawn.” Her piercing gaze found the rest of The Guard. “But we’ve a duty, friends, to free your fellows overtaken by Darkness’s vengeance. You’ve a call to arms. The sooner you take to it, the sooner this damnable business will end. My part will begin past purgatory’s walls. When it’s time, you’ll do yours.”
Percy tried to mitigate Beatrice’s tone. It was familiar, though, a quality she recognized in her betrothed. Perhaps leaders shared a certain profile.
“And shall we simply intuit our parts?” Alexi hissed. “Query destiny until she unfolds herself, or deign you to give us a bit of direction, Mrs. Tipton?”
“Do what I tell you, when I tell you,” the spirit replied, folding her arms.
As Percy repeated this, Alexi straightened in his chair. “Indeed? Well, to my knowledge, I remain the leader.” Blue sparks crackled around him, a spire of blue flame in his palm. “And I’m going on a honeymoon, and neither you nor the Whisper-world can change that. I’ll fight if I must, but good God give us a moment’s peace.”
Beatrice eyed Percy bitterly, then Alexi, but her voice belied profound emotion. “Of course,” she murmured. “Marry her. Celebrate love while you have the chance. Treasure it, please, for life is oft gone before it’s even begun.”
Percy blushed and turned to Alexi. “We’re to marry and celebrate love. Treasure it, even.”
Alexi’s hand tightened over hers, and he addressed their visitor. “Mrs. Tipton, that’s the first sensible thing you’ve said.”
Beatrice smirked, and for a moment the two leaders’ expressions were oddly similar. “I’ve work to do, regardless,” she replied, “so consider yourself lucky to gain that time. I must work from the inside out. But you mustn’t be gone long.” The spirit retreated into the shadows, that damp grey darkness stretching out behind her into what seemed eternity. There came a sound of weeping and water. It was not a place Percy wished to visit.
The ghost came forward again, weary, conflicted. “Lady Percy, don’t repeat this: I know the importance of trusting the family fate gave you, but as you’ve seen, no one, not even these fine people, are infallible. Our Heart, Ahmed, was a torrent of visions. None of us could keep up with him, not even you—what you were then—so nobody knew if he spoke truth or madness. But, he warned of betrayals from people dearly close, so…do be careful. In the end, Miss Parker, you’re the key to everything. It’s your duty to protect yourself. No one here would intentionally harm you, but betrayals are always a part of great prophecies, aren’t they?” She rallied a meek smile and murmured, “I’ll see you soon. Try not to be afraid. Trust your heart. And don’t refuse when called.”
The ghost turned again to the darkness, lifted her shoulders as if steeling herself, took a deep breath and vanished. A lingering chill slid across the table as the portal shrank away.
Alexi was looking at Percy expectantly. “And?”
Percy stared at her companions, all of whom were looking at her with hope, warmth and anxiety. Of all the times in her life, she had never felt safer than here with her beloved among these new friends. She could choose fear and to anticipate danger around every corner, or she could choose to boldly trust the bonds her heart had so long yearned for. The choice was easy.
“She said not to fear, to trust my heart. And I tell you, this morning, that my heart is with all of you—and I hope you will entrust yours to me in return.”
Everyone smiled brightly, especially Michael. Alexi bent close to graze her temple with his lips and, as no one knew what else to say, the conversation turned to the more cheerful talk of a wedding.
“Mrs. Rychman and I shall take time also,” Alexi said, “to adjust her to the estate of which she will be mistress. I trust you all to keep order. I expect no communication until a week has passed, after which Percy and I would ask you dine at our estate.”
The intimate isolation of which he spoke, the word “wife” and the thought of sharing an estate with him, sounded incredible to Percy’s ears, one of her hazy classroom daydreams. Only the sound of her teacup against its saucer and the thrilling press of Alexi’s hand upon her knee convinced her otherwise. She belonged to a peculiar destiny, and to this man seated next to her. She’d always wished to belong.
The group quit the table for coffee. Rebecca and Alexi rose in unison. She touched his elbow, and he immediately drew her into an adjoining, oak-paneled hallway. Percy stood frozen, blinking after the retreating figures, and she felt a sudden, surprising flare of jealousy. Would Alexi forever be at the bidding of Headmistress Thompson? Then she chided herself for being foolish. Alexi and the headmistress were her superiors, and she must respect stations established years before, regardless of the fact that Alexi was hers.
Her new friends were close at hand. Jane showed Percy into the withdrawing room and bade her sit on a sumptuously brocaded pouf. Josephine tossed a nonchalant nod toward Rebecca and Alexi and said, “You mustn’t mind them. They’re always sidling off into deep discussion, and have for years.”
“Is that so?” Percy said.
“Without her and Alexi’s strength,” Jane assured, “we’d never outlast the spirits we battle.”
“Of course.” Percy nodded. “I have always admired the headmistress’s obvious strength of character. In fact, I was always quite intimidated by her.”
“We all have been,” Josephine confided, taking up the role of hostess and passing out coffee from Molly’s silver tray. “Between her and Alexi, we’re never at a loss for intensity.”
“Indeed,” Percy murmured. “Oh! When I first met Alexi…”
“Terrify you, did he?” Jane smirked.
“Yes!”
Josephine laughed. “Don’t tell him that, he’ll take it as a compliment.”
“Yes, he did.” Percy grinned.
“When did it stop?” Josephine asked. “Your terror?”
Percy thought a moment. “I’d fled alone into a dark foyer at the academy ball, too nervous to be seen.” Her voice dropped, and the women leaned closer. “But Alexi sought me out, waltzed with me in moonlight to an echo of music. I was lost to him forever.” She blushed and looked at the floor. Jane sighed dreamily.
“Mon Dieu!” Josephine ex
claimed. “We must procure you a wedding dress!”
“Oh!” Percy quaked. “What does one wear?”
“Leave that to me,” Josephine assured her. “You’ll have something fit for a goddess!”
Delight was reflected in Josephine’s eyes, but Percy saw wistfulness, too. “Weddings,” the Frenchwoman murmured. “They are beautiful things. Everyone should have one.”
“You’re very beautiful,” Percy offered, when Jane reached out a hand and squeezed Josephine’s, blushing. “I’m sure you’ll have no trouble—”
“Oh, but Josephine likes trouble,” Jane said, earning a sideways glance from the other woman. “Besides, this fate…limits our options.”
Indeed, Percy thought, shifting awkwardly in her seat; none of these people were married. Because they were following the bidding of spirits and gods. And here she was, the young newcomer, up and marrying their leader, her professor. It was a lot to take in.
“Is there anyone we must not hesitate to invite?” Josephine asked, her melancholy gone.
Percy’s hand flew to her mouth. “My God, my dearest Marianna! With no one to vouch for my whereabouts, heaven only knows what she’ll think!”
“A matter for the headmistress.” Josephine slipped into the hall and motioned for Rebecca to join them.
Alexi and Rebecca both rounded the corner, and Alexi’s eyes went right to Percy, as if he’d known her exact location even through the wall. Jumping up, Percy offered him the seat by her side and darted to procure him coffee. He smiled broadly. She was unaccustomed to his smile, as he had always furrowed his brow at her before, scowling and brooding. So enthralling was the sight, she nearly spilled his cup. Alexi thanked her and bestowed a lingering kiss upon her cheek; Percy reddened, fell into her seat and nearly dumped both their coffees.
The headmistress darted to a writing desk in the corner. “Of course, I should’ve thought to send word to Miss Farelei—my apologies, Miss Parker.” Procuring a fountain pen and paper, she began scrawling. “I shall say you are well in health and shall return to the grounds this afternoon. Elijah,” she called as she went to the window. “May I open the casement for a bit of business?”
“Yes, dear,” the other drawled over his coffee, moving to lock the room’s sliding doors to prevent intruders.
Rebecca opened the beveled glass panel and loosed a low whistle. An impressive black raven with something glittering on its breast fluttered onto the windowsill. “Frederic, Athene Hall please,” the headmistress said to the bird, who obediently opened its beak for the paper, emitted a muffled squawk and flew off.
Elijah unlocked the doors again, to allow passage of the house staff, who were clearly not privy to the less-thanordinary aspects of the lives of The Guard. Percy herself had never dreamed the headmistress made pet of a raven, much less one who followed commands.
Jane leaned forward in her seat, grinning. “That’s Frederic. I’ve a cat, Marlowe. They’ve been frightfully useful.”
“I should say!”
Alexi patted her knee, enjoying her gaping astonishment.
It was then that the alarm sounded. Hands flew to temples and the company swayed on their feet. “Threadneedle Street. Luminous,” Alexi and Rebecca chorused. The Guard rose obediently.
“Couldn’t they give us a single day of respite?” Elijah muttered.
“Thank goodness, Percy,” Jane exclaimed, taking her by the arm and leading her to the door. “I thought these niceties would never end. Now you get to see us as we truly are.”
Josephine was clearly put out. “Could not they have waited until I was in less fine a dress?”
CHAPTER FOUR
Percy allowed the whirlwind to happen around her and watched. She didn’t dare posit questions; it was clear that the practices of their odd calling were well established, and she didn’t want to seem the intrusive novice. Elijah fussed over Percy at the door, procuring blankets and a traveling cloak, thinking her still delicate and recovering from the previous evening’s exertions. Percy was gracious and, indeed, once she drew the curtains of the carriage so that the bright light didn’t hurt her eyes, quite comfortable.
The fine carriages of the Withersby estate ushered them expediently southbound. Alexi held Percy as their cab jostled into the city that grew denser and darker with each passing street. He watched her squint out the window. “Are you ready for new wonders?”
Percy chuckled nervously, turning and looking up at him. “Truthfully, I’d rather talk about the wedding. What’s happening at Threadneedle?”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Not uncommon to find spiritual unrest in that general vicinity, centre of the city and all. There was a plague pit nearby.”
Percy shuddered, then voiced a sudden worry. “Could I have done more harm than good? Perhaps it’s that horrible woman coming for vengeance—”
“Hardly,” Alexi scoffed. “You reduced her to ashes. You saved the day, my dear, and none of us shall forget it.”
“You and the headmistress said ‘Luminous.’ What does that mean?”
“When something overtakes a human body—a possession with intent to harm—the bodies glow. When I first beheld you in my classroom, I thought as much of you.”
“Ah,” Percy said, recalling that first meeting. “But, Alexi…A possession requires exorcism.”
He paused. “Admirable institution, the Catholic Church,” he began, taking Percy’s white hand in his. “And if for some reason we were entirely indisposed, I imagine the rite suffices. But the most permanent solution lies in what you shall soon see.”
Percy shook her head. “And no one knows of you? Not the church? No one? How is this possible?”
“For that, you may in part thank Lord Withersby. He does have his uses. You’ll see.” Alexi pointed to a fine Tudorstyle town house. “Here.”
Percy turned her attention to the few random passersby. Some gazed around curiously, as if sensing something was wrong. All mortals had a certain capability to sense the unknowable, if few could actually see it. Six, it seemed, could truly affect it.
Once The Guard alighted from their respective carriages and the drivers were sent off, they linked hands on the street below and stared at the town house in question. Pale blue halos lit their bodies. When Alexi seized her hand, Percy felt a surge of energy blaze up her arm and into the core of her body. Elijah closed his eyes. He slipped a hand from Josephine’s and snapped his fingers. All the lingering and curious citizens wandered off, as if they’d not seen a thing out of the ordinary.
A fresh wind whipped the edges of Percy’s skirt and billowed Alexi’s cloak. The same bluish flame that had roused her from the brink of death now surrounded them in a sapphire circle. A strange, ancient harmony rose, as if the breeze had tuned strings for them. Alexi’s voice cut above it all, in a private command of peace. He then turned calmly to Rebecca.
“Third-floor den, top of the stairs,” the headmistress said. “Young male, catatonic. Luminous.”
“Thank you,” Alexi said, turning to Percy. “You, my dear, will remain directly behind me.” His fellows he told, “The rest as per custom.”
The company broke into formation, Alexi at the head, Michael directly at his side, Jane at the other. Percy furrowed her brow as the Irishwoman tied a leather apron around her waist that appeared stained with a dark substance of indiscernible origin. Alexi’s steady hand guided Percy behind him, Rebecca close beside. Josephine had slung a rectangular canvas bag over her shoulder and brought up the rear with Elijah, who was scouting for further passersby.
“Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more,” Alexi stated.
The house was charged. At the bidding of Michael’s upraised hand, doors swung open. They passed through the entrance foyer and up two grand sets of stairs, clearing befuddled maids with startled cries along the way. With calm waves, Elijah managed to send most lazing off with dumb expressions, lulling the tumult. The Guard tore into a fine room with carved cherry paneling from floor to ceil
ing. A long bar at one end, a wide hearth at the other, lush chairs and a few gaming tables sat sportingly in between. Ornate gaslight sconces burned low.
A pale young man lay crumpled and shuddering on the floor, in a disturbing state of disarray. Alexi directed a powerful gesture at him, and a cord of blue lightning shot forth. The twitching heap of a man groaned, rolling onto his back, and Percy heard a hiss the rest of the group could not.
Jane rushed forward, crossing herself. She lifted a hand glowing with healing light, her palm a small star. She touched the victim’s ashen face. His features were revealed as blood magically faded from his cheeks, unmatting from the place upon his crown where a gash mended beneath Jane’s fingertips. “Aren’t you a pretty one,” she murmured, having taken his head onto her lap. Percy grimly realized the dark stains upon her apron were from similarly supernatural wounds.
Josephine strode the room, examining each wall as if measuring space. Rebecca took notes in a small book. Michael moved about, peering at his comrades as if determining symptoms. Elijah approached the subject upon the floor.
“What is that suit you’re wearing?” He bent over the body. “These nouveau riche. I can’t bear it. Excuse me, Miss Connor.” Making a face, Elijah bent closer and touched a fingertip to the gentleman’s nose. An odd shudder worked him back to his feet.
“Name?” Rebecca asked.
“Matthew Van Courtland. Dutch merchant. Textiles.” Elijah’s apparent disdain deepened. He stared down at the supine body. “Whatever are you doing in England, sir? You see, it hasn’t been amenable to you, has it? Why don’t you leave colonialism to us, thank y—”
“Nature of possession?” Rebecca curtly interrupted.
“I broke free,” the spirit cried. Percy winced, knowing she was the only one who could hear. “But there’s a black dawn coming for you, just like the black plague—but for your mind! You’ll ne’er be free. We’ll turn the tables on you, just wait.” Percy shuddered but said nothing.
The Darkly Luminous Fight for Persephone Parker Page 5