“Highgate,” the two chorused. All eyes were upon them.
“Again?” Josephine pouted. “Why always in my finest dresses?”
The Guard gathered into Alexi’s two carriages. Mr. Wentworth hardly raised an eyebrow as Alexi helped ready the second team of horses, but Percy was inspired to murmur to Josephine, “Heaven only knows what that family must think.” They stood in the rear garden watching the conveyances being brought out.
Josephine smiled. “I daresay they’re quite accustomed to seeing us on impromptu jaunts. Elijah now and then tickles their minds so that they don’t ask too many questions. They know we’re out of the ordinary, and I secretly think they like us for it.”
“What’s Highgate?”
“The great graveyard, where London’s most fashionable dead are interred. Quite a place to see,” Josephine replied.
They set off, and soon tips of obelisks and angels in the distance heralded Highgate’s approach. Alexi’s hand was pressed firmly over Percy’s, and he stared ahead with fastidious concentration. A congregation of ghosts glowed just inside the fast-approaching gate.
Alexi helped her down once the carriage pulled to a halt. Visiting hours had long since passed, but Michael held out his hand and the enormous locked gate swung wide. A ring of dead children coiled at the centre, but there was an additional flank of unrest. Adult spirits lined the tall iron gates of Highgate, waiting. Swaying. And speaking. For Percy, there was no bugle call to arms, there was only a torrent of whispers. A dreadful singsong accosted her ears. “Lucy-Ducy wore a nice dress, Lucy-Ducy made a great mess…” The children’s voices filled the air. Percy felt her stomach roil, and she wondered if the head of a cavalry charge felt the same.
“You hear something, don’t you?” Alexi asked.
“They’re all speaking, Alexi, the children, in some sickening rhyme, and the others…Well, the others think you have brought me as an offering. As one of them. But I don’t know what they want.”
“My attention. I’ve been away. These spectral delinquents require the firm hand of a master.” And with that he gestured to The Guard, who darted forward among the grand monuments.
Surrounded by graceful angels, carved mausoleums and fine crosses, a bright, full moon illuminating the scene, Percy couldn’t help but be taken with the eerie light particular to a graveyard; the luminosity of an eternal crossroads.
Her husband lifted a hand toward the children, who suddenly seemed as curious as the adults to see Percy. Tendrils of blue flame snaked forth like ivy from his palm, and he became the great conductor. The transparent adult phantoms squealed and giggled or wailed like banshees, one by one realizing Percy was indeed living flesh. Before they could comment further, Alexi wrapped glowing cords of light around wrists, waists and necks, attaching them in fiery shackles.
The cantus was begun, Alexi insisting Percy join the circle. The Guard’s voices lifted, focusing their power and whipping a wind around them, coalescing their ancient force. Alexi cried out a word in the ancient Guard tongue: the simple call to peace Percy had heard before. The spectres reacted. Some drifted on, some simply faded, some sank into the ground, perhaps still too attached to their rotting coil to abandon it fully.
The hovering children watched the adult spirits around them fade and pouted, their fun cut short. They again took up their nursery rhyme. “Lucy-Ducy wore a nice dress, Lucy-Ducy made a great mess…”
The Guard’s power rose again, the blue fire crackling forth from their circular conduit, reaching upward in tall flames that tickled the feet of the bobbing young spirits, who sobered, their small eyes angry. “Beware the wrath!” one little girl in a white nightgown called, wagging a finger at Alexi. “He’ll lock you away, he will!” The other children picked up the new taunt. “He’ll lock you all away!”
The girl in the nightgown floated close, getting louder. “She’s coming. She’s coming. She is coming!”
Long ago Percy realized the calls of the dead often meant nothing at all. She hoped that was so now.
“What?” Alexi asked.
Percy winced. “ ‘She is coming,’ the girl screams.”
Rebecca turned to Alexi. “Remember little Emily, the Luminous case months prior—?”
“I don’t think this one means Prophecy,” Alexi retorted. “Someone else.”
Percy shuddered. The Guard turned back to the remaining ghosts.
“Children, I demand that you go to bed this instant!” Rebecca cried, using her best headmistress tone. Alexi followed the admonishment with a renewed burst of blue fire. The spirits screwed up their faces and descended, sinking again into the earth beneath the small gravestones marked with lambs and flowers, floating onward to where Percy did not know. The sight saddened her, but at least the job was done.
Returning to their carriages, Rebecca addressed only Alexi, but made no effort to hide her anxious question from Percy, whom he instinctively kept locked by his side. “Athens?”
Alexi raised an eyebrow. “Now?”
“I don’t mean to alarm you, Alexi, but what’s happening on the grounds is so…strange. Oughtn’t you come? There are matters—”
“Rebecca, dear, it’s near midnight. Fresh phantasms can await the dawn.”
“Indeed,” said the headmistress, her mouth thinning. She straightened her shoulders and marched off.
Percy watched her retreat. A few paces behind her was Michael, attempting to be noticed. Rebecca deigned to allow him to ride back in the same carriage, and they vanished into its interior. A thought occurred. “You would have gone, wouldn’t you? Before?” she asked Alexi.
“What do you mean?”
“Before our marriage. You would have gone to Athens. Rebecca seemed surprised. Disappointed. I’m all right, Alexi. If you should go, please don’t hold back on my account.”
“I’m taking you home, and that’s final,” he said. The look in his eyes made Percy’s body flood with heat. “We must dole out your supernatural excitement in pieces. I’ll not subject you to more, no matter what may lie in wait at Athens.”
As the children foretold, she was nearly complete. The Groundskeeper hummed as he peered over the coffin lid. The shape of a female body lay in the coffin. His sweetiesnaky lass. Not much could be said for her condition, being that she was entirely ash, a headless body of congealed grey soot that registered tiny, hitching breaths from a quivering sternum. He had catalogued her requisite parts and mostly put them back. There were a few pieces missing, to his dismay, and he wasn’t sure she’d come together exactly whole. Or what the effect would be. But something still lived and stirred in those ashes, angry.
Her head was the last of the large jars to be uncorked. He lifted it gently, ash inevitably flaking off for him to collect and return. The fragile head made rattling, hissing sounds, its mask of an open mouth frozen in a moment of rage and defeat. He attempted to soothe it. The body trembled as he poised the head above the crumbling neck. “That’s it, my Dussa-do. Soon my pretty girl lives again.”
He set the head atop the neck and massaged the ash together. The body hitched and seized, ash flaking off as a hideous growl sounded in the room like a growing storm. The ashen body sat up, slamming flaking hands on the side of the coffin. Its open mouth roared, and the entire Whisper-world shuddered the echo.
“WHERE IS SHE?”
“Mrs. Rychman, you ought to establish calling hours, in the interest of becoming better acquainted with your husband’s baffling bohemian set,” Mrs. Wentworth said after breakfast. Preparations were being made to return to Athens.
Percy blinked. She turned to Alexi, who also appeared confused.
Mrs. Wentworth sighed. “Honestly, Professor. You ought to attempt the civility your station requires, and encourage your wife to do the same.”
Alexi wrinkled his nose. “Calling hours. Headmistress Thompson always said ladies should have offices for those sorts of things. And really, Mrs. Wentworth, I’d never have thought you cared one whit for my ci
vility—or for my ‘baffling set.’”
“While I’ve had no cause to disapprove, mystery does not breed utter indifference, sir,” the woman replied with a slight smile.
Alexi chuckled then allowed, “Calling hours, eh? Only when I’m in class. Otherwise she’ll be with me at Athens. I can’t spare her more,” he added, grazing Percy’s hand with his own.
Seeing the warm expression he caused, Mrs. Wentworth importuned, “Mrs. Rychman, please give me an invitation list and I’ll take the cards out promptly.”
“Thank you very much,” Percy said with a shrug. When it came to matters of society or the house, she vowed to simply smile and agree, still thinking it mad that she should be mistress of a fine estate at all.
She dressed for the meeting at Athens in dark blue, in a dress finer than that of any student yet suited for her new profession. She stared into her wardrobe mirror for a long moment, then dove into a drawer to pull a soft scarf of pale blue. She’d once wrapped herself daily in it. The familiar shield, along with her dark, tinted glasses, she would keep close at hand. She placed both items in her reticule.
Wandering into Alexi’s study, she found him deep in a pile of notes, attempting to decipher which marks he had given to which student. A week of exams had been overtaken by grave prophecy, peril and marriage.
“Alexi, will my old professors be in attendance?”
“Hmm? Yes, some of them will be there. Not everyone attends the meetings, however…” Alexi trailed off, raising his hand in triumph as he found what he sought. “Why?”
Percy drifted to a leather chair, staring out the window at the sky.
“Alexi, I disappeared. What will they think? What of my final tests? Will I not have to answer to them?”
“You fell ill. And then we were married,” Alexi replied. “The staff has already been warned of our union. Our vows will appear sudden, perhaps even lecherous on my part, yet marriages have been made over less. There was every rumour about the headmistress and me, and I’m sure this outdoes anything they may have assumed of me prior. But there isn’t a thing to be done for opinion,” Alexi replied with a nonchalance Percy envied.
She grimaced, not wishing to recall her own assumptions of the closeness between him and the headmistress. “You’re such a help.” Then another thought made Percy gasp. “They’ll think I’m with child.”
“What?”
“They’ll think that’s why we had to marry so suddenly.”
Alexi’s brow furrowed a moment before he shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“But, Alexi. What if I…what if we…? I mean, could…? Can I? Can we? Is that part of Prophecy? I…” Percy worked herself into breathless shock. “There’s so much, Alexi, so much in this new life of ours, I’m…Forgive me my ignorance and frailty.”
“Hush,” Alexi said. He moved to kneel before her and took her hands. “I don’t care a whit what staff may think, Percy, and I hope you’ll soon feel the same. As to your question, my dear: of course I’ve wondered. I don’t know if we may conceive. While child-rearing hasn’t been part of The Guard’s expectations so far, things with you and me may be different. And, of course, we are mortals, so there is no reason to assume it an impossibility. Yet we mustn’t expect it. We must take our lives one day at a time. Can you pledge to do so with me?”
When Alexi cupped her cheek, she stared into his dark eyes and could breathe again. “You calm me so,” she murmured. But the thought was there, and she was not sure she could contain the raptures of her sudden sentiment.
“The idea of a little one does have its delights, though, does it not?” he murmured, making her wonder if he had the ability to read her mind. The two of them gazed quietly at each other before finally turning away from the powerful subject.
Mr. Wentworth was on hand to drive them to London in the good professor’s finest carriage. As Alexi settled opposite Percy, he watched her rustle in her reticule and withdraw her scarf. Winding it through her hands, she then pinned up her braid in ritualistic fashion, wrapped the scarf about her head and slid her dark glasses upon her nose.
“I thought we discussed this,” Alexi spoke up. “Shall my wife hide herself?”
Percy bit her lip. He stared at her with that same unsentimental acceptance that had bolstered her from their first private meeting, the look that allowed her to believe she could escape the personal limitations of her ghostly appearance. She smiled. “I suppose if I was able to go without this in a ballroom, I might do so in a meeting. I derive such fortitude from you.”
He almost smiled. “I’ve stubborn pride enough for us both.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Outside her office, Rebecca pointed across the wood-paneled hall. Alexi and Percy turned to behold a narrow door, a soft light emanating from beneath. The door hadn’t been there before, and it was marked with a seven.
Alexi folded his arms and peered close. “There’s a draft. I don’t suppose you’ve opened it?”
“Not while you were away, no. I thought it best to have our whole group present.”
Alexi pursed his lips and turned the knob. Locked. He raised an eyebrow. “Skeletons in your closet?” When Rebecca scowled he suggested wryly, “I suppose haunts have keys and guest rooms now.”
“I’ve a key,” Percy spoke up, pulling her mother’s key and phoenix pendant into view.
Rebecca furrowed her brow, squinting. “And that came from…?”
“My grave.”
Rebecca looked in alarm at Alexi, who merely shook his head. “I believe your key is meant for our sacred space, Percy. We’ll try it tonight.”
“Speaking of meetings, ours is about to start,” the headmistress stated, glancing at the watch on her waist-pocket chain. “I suppose we’ll have to see if any of the faculty have noticed our little…renovations. Where do you think this leads, Alexi?”
“The spirit world—cold draft, eerie light and all,” Alexi replied, and walked away toward the grand staircase. Rebecca and Percy hurried to catch up.
“But Alexi,” the headmistress said. She leaned close and spoke softly, and Percy had to strain to hear as they walked. “Doors that open from the spirit world into ours—actual physical doors like we’ve never seen, and that are locked from this side? Don’t we want to keep them shut?”
“I didn’t say I was fond of the idea,” he replied. Looking around for Percy, he drew her forward and tucked her arm into his so that they all three strode side by side. The act made Percy’s heart swell: she would not be left out. She was privy to this madness, too, and her powerful, mysterious professor wanted her on his arm.
Rebecca moved ahead. Percy found herself wishing Michael were there; he always seemed ready to take the headmistress’s arm. But Michael wasn’t employed by the school, so there seemed no remedy.
As they ascended the stairs, Marianna rounded the corner, espied Percy and ran to throw her arms around her neck. Alexi moved out of the way as if dodging something dangerous and braced for a squeal.
“How was the honeymoon?” the blonde girl crowed.
Percy blushed as a few staff turned with raised eyebrows. Marianna bit her lip and tried to drag her into private. Alexi had moved down the hall a few paces but was staring back at her expectantly, so she extricated herself from Marianna’s grasp and said, “It was wondrous, darling, but I must go. I cannot be late to the staff meeting. I hope to see you soon!”
Her friend withdrew as if ashamed, stared at her as if she were something different. It was true that she was. Things were altered—yet Percy wanted to lose none of the warmth and delight of her friend, exchange it for distance and cold formality, so she grasped Marianna’s hands in hers. “We’ll make time to talk, I promise. You simply must visit the estate.”
Her friend nodded. “Of course, Mrs. Rychman,” she replied.
Percy blushed. “While that title yet thrills me, you mustn’t call me it. To you of all people I will always be Percy.”
Alexi inclined his head, still waiting. P
ercy nodded nervously, kissed Marianna on the cheek and rushed off to take his outstretched hand. Glancing back she saw the blonde smile, buoyant and seemingly unruffled, but a slight melancholy tinged her lovely green eyes as she turned and descended the staircase, off to the classes from which Percy had been removed.
This shift between them was only natural, Percy supposed. She was older than the other girl, and her relationships must unfold as they would. Her new responsibilities were adult ones. Prophesied ones. Particularly those of The Guard. And she wished to be nowhere else but at this school and by the side of her formidable husband.
The Athens staff meeting was held in a small lecture space on the second floor of Promethe Hall. The conversation was quiet and mostly polite, if a bit strained as Percy and Alexi first entered. Utterly unruffled, her beloved went about business with enough indifferent arrogance as to confound any possible critics. Still, as Percy could feel eyes upon her and an impending wave of speculative gossip, it became more and more apparent that Alexi, while claiming no care for public opinion, seemed to be enjoying the idea of their scandal. A mischievous sparkle lurked in the corners of his sharp eyes as he boldly kept hold of her hand. She couldn’t help but be amused.
Headmistress Thompson ran the meeting with brisk efficiency, stating that attendance was holding and that there had been no notable infamy among their modest student body. Everything was well in hand. When a teacher inquired about her recent health, Rebecca coughed and dismissed the notion with embarrassment.
Occasionally Alexi and the headmistress would glance at each other, surely wondering if the subject of architectural changes to Athens would arise. But it seemed these were doors only visible to The Guard. This relieved them both, Percy could tell, though the lines relaxed only around her husband’s mouth, not Rebecca’s.
The Darkly Luminous Fight for Persephone Parker Page 16