Having cleaned and organized her office with meticulous obsession, Rebecca sat stiffly pressed against the back of her chair. The wool of her snug collar grazed her throat as she swallowed. How should she tell Alexi what her gift had proffered? While information should flow freely between leader and second, would Alexi not be maddened more by a vague threat than by confronting the truth in its time? Would she be granted enough foresight to keep everyone safe? Or was she stalling, perhaps out of fear, or guilt…or out of some deeper, secret, terrible thought that if she just let things go Percy would simply end up out of the equation?
She shook her head in defiance, demanding better of herself. “No. I will fight for the girl. Not against her.” But could she ever trust herself in matters concerning the woman Alexi Rychman loved? Worse: if she told him, wouldn’t he secretly assume her to be the betrayer?
Just then, the man in question burst through her door and slammed it angrily behind him. “Beatrice says Percy will have to go back into the spirit world, where none of us dare go, to bring about the war to end it all.”
Rebecca furrowed her brow. “Percy has to go back? But she just got here.”
“Precisely my point. Why did we fight so hard for Prophecy if we’re sending her right back into the abyss? I won’t let her go.”
“So the doors—”
“The dark portals that open around her are beckoning her to walk right in, to pick up where she left off—I don’t know exactly,” he growled. “The new doors in this building have something to do with the final battle. After they are joined, Athens will be the field of conflict between the mortal and spirit worlds.”
“But we don’t want the worlds joined, we’ve spent our lives trying to keep them separate!” Rebecca cried.
“I know,” Alexi spat, having a friend in frustration fueling his ire. “Spirits say things to Percy I can’t hear, the ramifications of which I don’t understand, and I feel like a pawn in some farce.”
“We’ve enough doors for one,” Rebecca agreed. “I just noticed a new one down the humanities hall.”
“We need a meeting. I’m not going to let one ghost determine our future after decades of work.” He flung wide the door and nearly crashed into Percy, hesitating outside, her hand raised to knock.
She had heard his angry voice from within and now flinched as he glowered down at her. Seeing it was her, his gaze softened slightly. He hung in the doorway. “Have a nice tête-à-tête?” he asked.
Percy sighed, staring at him with the helplessness she felt. “I’ve no more of an idea what to think than you.”
Alexi said nothing and remained staring down at her. Behind him, Percy glimpsed Rebecca watching impassively from her desk. She said, “I…thought maybe Miss Thompson would like a cup of tea. And you, of course. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“No thank you,” her husband said, storming into the hallway and leaving the door open behind him. “But perhaps the headmistress will indulge you. We’ve early dinner plans. Do be ready when I call.”
“Yes,” Percy breathed. “Professor,” she added, her throat constricting as she watched him go.
The headmistress glanced out into the hall, then at Percy, her hard mouth and furrowed brow no more forgiving than Alexi’s. Percy hesitated before turning to walk away.
“Good God, girl, you look like a lost sheep.” Rebecca grimaced. “Come and sit. I’ll call for tea.”
“Th-thank you, Headmistress.”
“You may do away with that formality.”
“Oh, I’m not sure that I can,” Percy said.
Rebecca stared at her, scrutinizing her like the day Percy first sat in that chair, not terribly long ago. She shook her head. “You’re just a girl,” she muttered, turning away and pulling on the golden cord that rang for amenities a flight below.
“And by that, should I be relieved or offended?” Percy asked.
Rebecca’s lips twitched. “You know, you’ve gotten a bit more spine than you came here with.”
“I had no choice.” Percy shrugged. “I married Alexi.”
“I wish I could tell you that your lot would be an easy one. But then again, surely even for a smitten schoolgirl you foresaw ahead of you a lifetime with a…difficult man.”
Percy would most certainly find no great help in this line of conversation and was exceedingly grateful for the knock at the door. A moment later, the plump and pleasant butler Percy often saw bringing professors afternoon refreshments wheeled in a tray and made a bowing exit, giving Percy only one second glance.
Percy rose and prepared a cup of tea. “Sugar?”
“No. Thank you.”
Percy passed a plain cup to Rebecca, then sat with her own, a little sugar softening the rich Darjeeling. They sat in awkward quiet made bearable by the business of tea.
“Do come for my calling hours,” Percy blurted.
“I’ve a school to run, Mrs. Rychman,” Rebecca said. “I’ve no time for such niceties, however generous the offer.”
“Alexi said as much, that women should have offices for those sorts of things. And so you and I do.” Percy shrugged. “But I suppose we’ll never be quite the model citizens Her Majesty would expect.”
Rebecca sighed. “Do you remember what I said to you the first day you sat across this desk from me?”
Percy nodded. “Every word. You said we must acknowledge the limitations of our world.”
“That is the only philosophy by which I can survive.”
“I remember being particularly heartened to hear you say you chose to run an institution rather than a household.”
“And yet you ended up with one,” Rebecca replied, her lips thin.
Percy stared. “The greatest wonder of my weird life,” she murmured finally, breaking away to gaze into her tea.
Rebecca went to the window and let Frederic inside. The bird made a squawk and strutted about the headmistress’s desk, shifting papers as he did. They both watched him, glad of the distraction while they sipped the remains of their tea.
“Thank you for the company, Headmistress,” Percy murmured as they finished. “You’re always welcome in my office for the same.”
Rebecca simply nodded.
Feeling worse for having wanted a friend, Percy left the room. The Guard were more business associates; the initial warmth of their welcome came from gratitude that she had unwittingly saved their lives, not that she would fit into their established social fabric.
Perhaps heaven was listening, as she was almost immediately provided for: amid a rustle of skirts, a petite figure was suddenly in stride with her. “And how is the new lady of Athens?”
The familiar German accent made Percy. “Hallo, meine liebe. I’m exceedingly glad to see you. It’s all been rather much, and I’m afraid I’m still reeling. They’ve even given me an office!”
Marianna made a mocking face, then grinned and dragged her to a bench by a window at the centre of the hall. She leaned in, her eyes bright. “Do tell, how is life with Herr Rychman?”
Percy blushed, sure Marianna was curious about their intimacy—which was the easiest and most glorious part of their union. Everything else was…“Complicated.”
“Trouble so soon?” Marianna gasped.
“No,” Percy assured her, glancing toward Rebecca’s closed door, not so very distant from their location.
Marianna watched, and understood. “The headmistress’s jealousy is driving you mad—” she blurted.
“No!” Percy batted her hand before her friend’s mouth. “If I were to describe our situation you’d hardly believe it. It is the stuff of ghosts and visions.”
“Ah. Your mysteries have something to do with him, after all? I’d have thought a man of science—”
“It isn’t easy for him. Or me.” Percy’s mood clouded. How to speak of her heart without revealing more? “It’s impossible to live solely for love when there are odd forces upon our lives we don’t entirely understand.”
Marianna refle
cted. “He worries for you, then, which makes its own trouble.”
“Quite wise. Yes, I do believe that’s so.”
“But strange forces aside, think of the miracles, Percy. Think how shocking that a man as cold as he could look so warmly at you. It’s staggering.”
“Truly?” Percy asked.
Marianna rolled her eyes. “You doubt it? After the rush of marrying him, do you still not see how he stares at you?”
Percy blushed, realizing how her confidence had been faltering, wilting slowly under Beatrice’s vague threat, these new proclamations of future struggles and tasks, and Alexi’s anger at the possibilities.
“Or…you had to marry him so quickly because he ruined you!” Marianna whispered. Percy’s blush increased, and she shook her head. “He would have if you hadn’t run immediately to that chapel!”
Percy leaned in, smiling. “That, perhaps, is true.”
“So all of that smothering intensity of his, in the end, is worth something.”
Percy bit her lip and stared at Marianna, the answer clear. They both blushed and sighed.
“Persephone, I’ve been looking for you,” came a sharp voice. Percy looked up to find Alexi, her cloak on his arm, stern and stoic as if he were still her teacher.
“Hello, husband,” she replied, choking off her giggles and rising to her feet.
“Hello, Professor,” Marianna said.
Alexi glanced at the blonde girl and bowed his head. “If you’ll forgive me, Fräulein Farelei, I’m always taking your friend from your side.”
“You’ve every right. Just so long as you give her back, occasionally,” came the reply, along with a wide smile.
Alexi held out his arm and Percy took it. When she glanced back, Marianna gestured toward Alexi’s eyes, encouraging her to really see what her husband felt. Percy beamed and hoped her expression gave appropriate thanks.
“You’ve a guilty look of gossip about you,” Alexi muttered.
Percy looked up at him and grinned. “Oh, Professor. I’m still your smitten, pining schoolgirl. These things cause blushes. And the occasional giggle. You mustn’t take offense, as I can’t promise it won’t happen again.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. He placed her cloak around her at the door. “I assumed you’d like a spot of dinner before our meeting. A restaurant. Unless a dormitory dining room pleases you more? Would I be allowed in?”
Percy giggled. “Hardly. Besides, I’m quite ignorant of London outside of Athens. Do educate me, husband.”
Again, Alexi seemed pleased.
A few streets south sat a fine little establishment decorated with dark wood and sparkling glass. Two Athens staff at a corner table fell to murmuring the moment they arrived, but Alexi’s haughty smirk bolstered Percy. She wished she cared as little as he, but they were both soon eating soup and speaking pleasantly of Athens trivialities. Percy was grateful for the distraction. Alexi’s ire and talk of returning to a world and a life she did not remember would come soon enough.
Rebecca rose from the café table at La Belle et La Bête, coming to a realization. “I doubt Alexi will collect us here—he’ll prefer private dining these days,” she muttered, her lips thinning. “Come. Time for meeting.”
“You’re heavy laden,” Josephine said quietly, taking her hand.
“I’ve been laden for years, you’re only now noticing?”
Michael had procured her coat from the hooks at the door and was holding it out. “There’s something you’re not telling us,” he said. Elijah and Jane glanced at each other, watching in silence as they dressed for the chill air outside.
“You mustn’t get weary, darlings, the best is yet to come!” Rebecca declared with a hollow smile. “Poor Athens will bear the brunt of it. Come, let’s hear it from Alexi. He’s none too fond of the recent revelations.”
“And dear Percy?” Jane spoke up.
Rebecca grimaced. “Poor girl doesn’t understand a whit about what awaits. My instincts are unusually muddied, but they’re clear on one thing.”
“What?” Josephine asked.
“Doom.”
Alexi and Percy sat in the anterior of the Athens chapel. He’d hardly let go of her hand all evening, as if he dared not. Percy didn’t mind; his desire to hold her, any part of her, made her feel secure.
The rest of The Guard arrived as one, suggesting they had all been together prior; Rebecca still wore the grim mask she’d taken since first mentioning that Athens was changing. Seeing them, Alexi sent a bolt of blue fire toward the plain altar, and a black dot grew into a two-dimensional door that somehow led to a world where their power reigned.
The Guard descended into the place. Alexi waited at the portal edge, his hand out. Percy remembered: this was the path she’d trod to save them. She went through, and Alexi descended behind her, the portal door closing after them.
It was here in this colonnaded room at the edge of two worlds that he had pledged his love and revived Percy’s flagging life. Hesitant, she stood just outside the circle of The Guard until Alexi drew her next to him. A wind coursed the room. Percy heard the familiar song rise, still unsure who had begun singing or if the music was always quietly there on the wind. It was The Guard’s call to order, their affirmation of ancient power. A circle of blue flame leaped around their ankles, linking them.
“The Power and the Light!” Alexi cried. An enormous shaft of brilliant azure fire wreathed in white beams erupted from the centre of the floor and connected with the great stained-glass firebird hanging above. The room hummed with power, recharging and fortifying them. They all blinked, the power of the light too bright to stare into directly. “You are welcome here, Percy,” Alexi murmured. “The light has never been so powerful.” The rest nodded, impressed.
“I feel at home,” Percy murmured, blushing. The light was like a drug, making the world wonderful and all her worries vanish, leaving only boundless love. She beamed at Alexi, who seemed dazzled by the sight.
“Are you going to stare moonbeams at each other all night, or is this a meeting?” Elijah drawled. Alexi pursed his lips as the rest giggled, Rebecca the only one clearly not amused.
Staring down his friends, Alexi donned his natural authority. “I assume Rebecca has alerted you to the curious changes to our centre of operations.” When The Guard nodded, he added, “Our battle has only just begun. Doors to the spirit world will continue to open, beckoning Percy in. The spirit Beatrice, who claims she was one of us once, has boldly declared my wife will have to go into the spirit world.”
The group began to murmur, and to eye Percy in alarm.
“This cannot be,” Alexi continued, quieting them. “There must be another way. I do not know if this spirit can be trusted.”
“There’s no reason she shouldn’t be,” Percy said softly.
Alexi’s eyes flashed. “No reason? It would seem that, rather than separating the mortal and spirit worlds by the great walls we have tried to keep intact all these years, Beatrice is connecting them. Those walls are increasingly thin. That ghost is creating new doors. The truth is, at any moment the Whisper-world might pour right in upon us.”
More murmuring rose among the group before Elijah asked, “If she was one of us and is now reversing our work, what has been our purpose all these years? Has our service in London been some sort of a joke—a charade?”
Percy wanted to calm the six. These new and vague circumstances entirely turned their world on end. But she had no news with which to reassure them, and her own dread at the idea of further battle with spirits tied her tongue.
“Our future is unknown, our very purpose questioned by these suggestions,” Alexi agreed. “Unfortunately, Prophecy has left us no map.”
The last word jarred Percy. She hadn’t thought to mention Beatrice’s map reference to Alexi; it was too much all at once. Her mind was swimming with questions of divinity versus mortality, and with fear that Alexi loved a divine image more than her own flesh. Yet, perhaps she ought to o
ffer up the key around her neck. Or would that disrupt the proceedings, bringing a new riot to the table? It was her key, found in her grave, so perhaps it was more related to her than the current conflict. She would see to it on her own rather than distract her friends; she would study it as Beatrice suggested.
“We must watch as Athens changes,” her husband was saying, “perhaps exorcise these doors back from whence they came. We must first assure ourselves these troubles do not affect our students, who are innocent of dealings with our Work.”
“And we must, dear fellows, renew ourselves,” Michael breathed, turning his face toward the fountain of light.
The Guard took time to do just that, breathing deeply, aware of each other soul in the circle and the preciousness of life. Their blood rushed in their veins.
“Until duty brings us next to your mercy,” Alexi murmured to the sacred space.
The light faded but did not vanish. The bird above glittered as if subtly alive. Percy stared at it to the last, drinking in its replenishing warmth, as The Guard filed upward. Alexi lingered to collect her. For comfort as much as out of habit, she crossed herself and traversed the impossible threshold back into the more traditional church.
The hired carriage turned into their drive, and Alexi offered Percy a key to their darkened, empty home. With a kiss upon the cheek, he helped her down the step and onto the flagstone. “I’ll be a moment,” he explained, and was off behind the house, perhaps to take his beloved Prospero for a gallop. Percy wandered into the shadows inside, turning gas lamps low and ascending to the second floor. In and out of rooms she glided, searching like a ghost in a haunt it could not quit, and arrived finally at a back chamber furnished only with a dusty harpsichord. Eager for the twinkling, antique sound to sort her mind, she rushed to the bench. The instrument was out of tune and its notes had a dull, distant quality, as if the thick fog outside had suddenly infiltrated the room—or the fog of her own doubt, from which her rich Mozart étude, melancholy in its winding chords, could not untangle her. Alexi’s embrace, she knew, might cure all, but she also respected their two solitary natures. Not every hardship could be met and resolved simply by touch.
The Darkly Luminous Fight for Persephone Parker Page 18