There was a brief welcome given her, the new linguistic appointment, and Percy was grateful for the utter lack of ceremony. Her former dormitory chaperone, Miss Jennings, kept a scowl on her face, stewing over the unexpected couple. If she had only done her job, her thickly knitted brows seemed to say, that haughty Rychman would never have been so bold.
Meeting adjourned, Percy released a breath and was the first to glide into the open foyer beyond. Alexi moved behind her. “Come, my dear, let me show you to your office.”
“I’ve an office?”
At the end of a long hallway there was a paneled wooden door with freshly painted gold script that read: Translation Services, Mrs. A. Rychman. Alexi opened the heavy door, and the sight beyond garnered Percy’s gasp. The room was a fair size, with a bay window that took up nearly an entire wall and looked down onto the school courtyard. Light shone brilliantly through its Bavarian-style glass and the smooth panes at the centre. Every furniture cushion was a royal purple. The walls held books, floor to ceiling. Percy was agape.
“Mrs. Rychman,” her husband began grandly. “Our Athens translator and envy of all faculty as resident of the Bay Room.”
“Oh, Alexi, I don’t deserve this. How was this beautiful room not occupied?”
“Because it is most assuredly, and most constantly, haunted.” He grinned. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
A few books floated from a bookshelf and opened their covers to settle gently on the leather-topped desk. The room dropped a number of degrees and a greyscale, square-jawed, professorial gentleman came through the bookcase to fix Percy with a transparent stare. His hair was long and bound behind him. Percy glanced at the books on the desk: poetry in several languages.
The ghost held out his hand, and a lovely woman with windswept hair slipped through the bookcase and into the room. Alexi nodded in greeting. “Professors, may I introduce your new tenant, our new linguistic administrator and my wife Persephone? Percy, Professors Michael and Katherine Hart.”
Percy smiled. She recognized them. Every year on their anniversary, these wraiths were known to waltz in the tiny graveyard behind Apollo Hall. She’d watched them, enraptured. The deceased academics eyed her appraisingly.
“Hello, Professors Hart.” She made a small curtsey. “Pleasure to meet you. I see you have placed a book of sonnets on my desk. I do hope you’ll do me the pleasure of reciting your favourites. I, unlike others, am able to hear your ghostly voices.”
The floating forms turned to each other and smiled. Katherine said in a sweet voice like the wind, “You’ll do fine then. Perfect, in fact. Welcome.” She took her husband’s arm and remarked absently, “Lovely couple. Wonderful how those with gifts find one another.” The two vanished back through the bookshelves.
“I remember them, you know,” Percy said.
Alexi took a seat upon the bay window and gestured for her to join him. “The waltz in the graveyard?” He gave a slight smile. “I saw you from my office window that night, your arms open to them, starved for such a thing. I didn’t know what else was to be done but teach you how.”
“Our waltzes…” Percy breathed, remembering his lesson, then the academy ball, when the blooming flower of their affection could at last be denied no longer.
The sound of her breathless recollection compelled Alexi to kiss her. He drew back after a languorous moment to see Percy’s eyes remained dreamily half open. “While I could easily busy myself with you in all manner of ways, I’ve a bit of business,” he admitted. “As for your new position, I’ve a book for the Russian consulate. Your work will fund a scholarship for young girls in need of education. Shall I fetch it so you may begin?”
“Wonderful!”
“I’ll be back again in a moment.”
She watched him go and bit her lip, indulging a bit of a swoon against the bay window cushions.
“Oh, how you love him!” declared a strong female voice. “I admit it’s a balm to my weary soul. I’ve worked so hard.”
Having thought herself alone, Percy jumped to her feet and whirled to find a ghost floating near her desk. “Hello, Mrs. Tipton,” she said.
The spirit straightened to greet Percy properly. Her presence in life must have been very potent, as intimidating as Alexi and the headmistress had been to Percy at first, as her shade lingered on in a form very nearly solid. “My lady!” She floated forward. “You look so much the spirit. I wonder how you managed that particular trick.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your colour. I wondered how on earth you managed it.”
Percy flushed. “No trick, madam. I certainly would not have chosen this colouration had it been within my power to affect.”
“Well, it shall come in quite useful on the Whispering side.”
Percy hoped Beatrice didn’t mean what she assumed. “Would you…care to sit down?” She was trying to be, as Mrs. Wentworth suggested, a civilized lady. But etiquette with the dead wasn’t in any ladies’ handbook.
“No, no, you sit. I suppose you’ve questions for me.”
“Indeed.”
“Lovely wedding,” Beatrice murmured. “Made me think of the rite Ibrahim and I had. Intimate. Powerful.” Her eyes hardened. “But that was long ago. Where shall we begin?”
Percy sat again at her bay window, a sliver of sunlight falling across her lap. She wished she could busy her trembling hands with a cup of tea. “Please, tell me of my mother.”
Beatrice stared at her a moment, impassive. “For the brief span I knew Iris, she was a good woman. Kind, generous.” The ghost looked away. “Full of a faith I never understood, giving herself to her fate in a way that I admired. Because, damn it if I didn’t fight my own fate.” She turned again to Percy, her expression pained. “Remind me that you remember nothing of the old times, of the other side, of the life prior to your current flesh.”
“All I know are the simple visions that led me to Alexi. Tiny flashes. Should I remember more?”
“No, it’s just as well.” Beatrice sighed. “You’ve begun again, a clean slate. I just have to remember not to lay any lingering resentments at your feet, my lady, for it isn’t your fault.”
“I’m Percy, please.”
“Indeed. You’re not my lady. You’re Mrs. Alexi Rychman, and all is as it should be.”
“Is it?” Percy asked. When Beatrice looked up she added, “Why did you fight your fate?”
“We’ve not the time for my lengthy answer. I both loved and hated the Grand Work, what it took from me. In life I was a mortal pawn for an ancient vendetta, preparing for a prophecy of strangers, and I remain servile to it here in death. I resented the powerful force that was Our Lady, and yet I loved her, for while she was not mortal she loved like one, wished to live as one, and loved The Guard like family. But she couldn’t know the burdens she brought onto us by this calling. She had so many burdens of her own, her poor form faltering after so many years in that dark Whisper-world for which she was never meant. And so she never truly knew how it was for us.”
Percy sat silent, feeling a bit helpless, regarding Beatrice with open empathy.
The spirit wafted closer, her edges softening. “But we must finish what we started. What began eons ago with a murder.”
Percy shuddered in sudden recollection. “I relived a horrific death by fire, more vision than memory. There was a great, winged angel of a man, reminiscent of Alexi—”
“Yes. That was terrible history. Phoenix splintered under Darkness’s fist, but he could not be quenched. He and his attendant Muses lived on in what became The Guard, using mortals to fight Darkness’s viler whims. The goddess Persephone deteriorated without her true love, quite literally rotting in the Whisper-world. She awaited the day she could finally give over, could choose this side for good and be close to the pieces of that life she cherished. She brought remnants of Phoenix to this school. Eventually she was brave enough to choose this life. To become you, something immortal made flesh. Much like they say of Je—
”
Percy’s hands flew up. “No, you mustn’t.”
“Ah, yes, you’re Catholic.” Beatrice chuckled. “Theologically confusing, I’m sure. Will be interesting when you next pray your rosary. You could choose not to believe in anything, like me, and then be surprised by moments of supreme divinity. Tell me: are you happy?”
Percy, reeling, took a moment, thought of Alexi and all that had changed. “Yes. I would say I am most blessed.”
“Good.” Beatrice nodded and stared out the window.
“Why the gift of language?” Percy asked suddenly. “Why can I hear, know and speak each tongue I encounter?”
Beatrice stared at her. “Because death speaks every language.” When Percy shuddered, Beatrice added, “The goddess spoke to all the dead. She was beloved for it. It seemed she passed on that gift to you. Oh, it taxed her immensely, but she tried to set as many to rest as she could. Sometimes it only takes one word of kindness, you know, to set a soul at ease.”
Percy’s eyes watered. “That’s lovely,” she murmured, feeling a sudden pride in her heritage, confident in her endeavour to carry on that noble work in this life.
Beatrice grinned suddenly, a bit wickedly. “I wonder if your husband remembers you stealing to his bedside as a youth, making him a man…”
“I beg your pardon?!” Percy flushed.
The ghost batted her hand. “Don’t be jealous. He only ever loved you. Divine, mortal, she who became you. As a divinity you—”
“She. I’m not—”
“She came to The Guard on their annunciation day. She proclaimed Prophecy. You may ask them about it.”
Percy tried to calm herself. “Yes, Alexi mentioned her, and that some part of her might be guiding me—or inside me.”
Beatrice nodded. “Desperate, she came to him in dreams. In Alexi she found the closest match to her beloved as ever was incarnate. She wiped his memory to make him fresh for what she would become, but not until afterward. She wanted to be with him as a bride, and was scared she would not find him in whatever she became. But here you sit.”
Percy grimaced. While she had no right to be jealous, exactly, she was more confused than ever about her identity, and was suddenly afraid Alexi loved someone from his past.
A knock sounded at her door. “It is I, dear. Kindly open the door for me,” called a low, rich, unmistakable voice.
“Such a striking boy. What a fierce and imperious man Rychman has grown to be. And how love transforms that stern face.” Beatrice sat, hovering, on the desk while Percy scurried to open the door.
Alexi swept in with an armful of books. “Your first assignment, my dear—Shelley’s work to be translated into Russian as a gift to the czarina. A grand beginning, eh, gifts to royals funding the education of the disadvantaged?” It was as he placed the stack through Beatrice that he noticed her on the desk. Jumping back, he straightened his robe and held his head high. “Percy, my dear, you didn’t tell me you were receiving company.”
She rushed forward. “My apologies, love, it was rather sudden.”
“Hello, Mrs. Tipton.” Alexi narrowed his eyes. “So, you arranged our lives, did you? Percy’s mother—”
“Alexi,” Percy admonished. A long moment passed as spirit and professor stared at each other.
“It’s all right, Percy,” Beatrice chuckled. “I knew he’d waste no time.” She floated about the room, Percy and Alexi watching, Percy ready to repeat her every word. “What shall I tell you, and what must I leave to discovery? I, of all souls,” Beatrice murmured evenly, “know the importance of being left to fend for oneself. It is the only way one learns. Survival in the face of uncertain terror makes one keen. You, Professor, are very keen.”
Alexi was immediate in his reply. “Keen to know a few answers.”
“I have no answers for you, Professor. I simply bear tidings of war.”
Alexi set his jaw. He had begun to look not at Percy, even though it was her voice that brought Beatrice’s words to his ear. Instead, he focused on the spirit. “You’ve relayed your message, then. Oughtn’t you return to whatever sort of elysian fields lie beyond if you’ve nothing more to offer?”
Beatrice narrowed her eyes. “No sentiment to offer me? No respect or accolades for your predecessor? How cool you are, Professor, in this mechanized, sooty and melancholy age.” Her transparent hands clenched. “We’ve no fields, Professor, they’re burned and gone. An eternal prison fashioned by Darkness is all I’ve heard awaits our kind. We must yet earn the Great Beyond.” The spirit turned to Percy and said, “I’m sorry, my dear, but you do realize what’s ahead, don’t you? Why all those portals open? You do realize, don’t you, that you’ll have to go back.”
“Go back?” Percy asked meekly.
“The hell you will.” Alexi whirled on Percy before whirling on Beatrice. “The hell she will!”
“You blend in with the spirits, my dear, it’s brilliant. And it’s the only way. You have to turn the keys to start the war. He won’t know it’s you. He won’t have guessed what you’ve become.”
Percy sat, reeling again. “Who…?”
“Darkness.”
“Darkness.” Percy shuddered.
“What. What are you saying?” Alexi demanded, the last exchange not having been translated. He stood over her, mad with rage.
Beatrice floated beside them. “He isn’t going to take to this kindly, Percy. But it’s the only way. Do not fear, you’re not alone. Soon, I pray, we’ll all finally be free from Darkness’s shadow. But it will take a battle.”
Percy related this last, attempting to strengthen her own voice, but it felt weak and young.
Alexi faced Beatrice, his eyes like fire. “I’m not letting her go there.”
Percy seized his hand and brought it to her lips, not knowing what to say but yearning to touch him. His fingers twitched and he yanked them away.
“There’s no other choice,” Beatrice stated. “The doors have already begun linking the worlds for our vendetta’s grand battle. If the doors open into here, into our territory, they won’t open everywhere. This war must stay contained and corralled to our advantage.”
“So that’s what that’s about,” Percy said instead of translating.
“What?” Alexi barked.
“The doors,” Percy explained, trying not to let his agitation panic her. “The new doors that the headmistress showed us. Linking the mortal and spirit worlds. Here. What you guessed is true.”
“Athens shall be the epicentre of spiritual upheaval, then?” Alexi spat. “Isn’t that what we’ve been trying to avoid all these years? Bringing spirits to us is antithetical to the very nature of our work!”
“It’s precisely why we seized these stones, why Phoenix fire runs through them. Here is the only place that’s safe. Our Lady and I made sure of it,” Beatrice replied. Percy repeated her words.
“I’ll not let the spirit world have this school, and certainly not my wife!” Alexi growled, pointing a threatening finger. But Beatrice calmly returned his gaze. “If I have to keep her under lock and key, I shall. I nearly lost her once in this life, I won’t make that same mistake twice.” He clenched his fists and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Percy and Beatrice stared after him for a long moment. “He does that sometimes,” Percy murmured.
“Storm out of a room?”
“Yes,” Percy said, trying to excuse him. “When he doesn’t know what else to say, or when it seems he cannot control the situation, you mustn’t mind—”
“Come now. Of course I don’t mind, I’ve a hell of a temper. Alexi feels just as I did; used, angry, confused. I understand. But we’re still part of a fate that will take us under if we don’t fight back.”
Percy sighed. She stared out the window down at the courtyard where a few students and staff milled. “I’ve no concept of a life other than this. I will fight for it alone, no matter that I cannot remember my past.”
“I fight for l
ove, too,” Beatrice murmured. Percy looked up and met her intent gaze. “He’s trapped inside the Whisper-world by the hand of Darkness. We died to make this right. Whether you remember your debt or not, it’s your turn to help me. No matter what.”
Percy’s throat dried. “I’ve no wish to go against Alexi.”
“You may have to, at first.” Beatrice shrugged. “He’ll come around.”
“I won’t lie—”
“I’m not asking you to,” the spirit interrupted. “But when you’re called, you’ll come, and we’ll finally settle the score. From what I’ve observed, there are powers within you when you need them.”
Percy grimaced. “It would seem.”
“Darkness will never stop looking for you. You might as well start learning the map.”
Percy stared at her, confounded. “Map? What map?”
“In The Guard’s private chambers. A key unlocks it. The one your mother and I planted.”
Percy fumbled around her neck and brought up the key on her pendant. “This?”
“Yes, that. There’s another key you’ll have to find to make the merger complete. That one’s a bit more difficult. You’ll see soon enough. I have to go—more doors need knitting. The pins are loosening again, and when they’re all nearly open, we’ll be forced to make our move. Stay alert and be well, Percy.”
“What about the betrayal of which you spoke? I’ve seen no hint of such, and I refuse to make my new family suspect for no cause.”
Beatrice thought a moment. “That is likely best. I wish I could say, but the situation is no clearer to me. The Guard senses when one of their number is in danger. I can only hope that now extends to you, and that they’ll rally to you when you need them.” And with that, she vanished out the bay window.
Percy sighed heavily and supposed she ought to find and reassure her husband, but she found she didn’t really want to speak to anyone. She just wanted some silence. Of course, when one heard the dead, peace and quiet was hard to come by. Her world would never be silent. Perhaps she would just sit with a cup of tea.
The Darkly Luminous Fight for Persephone Parker Page 17