“Let’s go down a ways,” Lisa was telling her invisible suitor. “Bobbies don’ like a tumble in the street.” She turned toward them, her eyes closed. “Don’t be nervous,” she said, hiking up her skirts a little. She slid her hands over her corseted torso, trying to entice the unseen lover. “What’s that? My leg?” She pulled the cumbersome petticoats over her knee. “Don’t let that mech bother you, love. Me insides is warm and smooth like honey.” She drew her fingers over her lips suggestively and giggled.
“Lisa,” Brown snapped. “You stop this now, hear?”
“What’s that?” Lisa asked. “Did you bring toys with you?” Then her eyes went wide. Whatever her ghost lover had shown her was evidently shocking. Suddenly, she let out a bloodcurdling scream that was cut off abruptly. She clutched at her throat, gasping and stumbling. She sank to the floor, thrashing about as she fought some invisible foe.
Phoe sprang into action. She rushed to the girl, not really knowing what she was going to do. She had this absurd thought of the old wives’ tale her grandmother used to spin about dying in your dreams. Whether it was true or not, Lisa thought she was dying and Phoe had to help her break out of this fugue.
Her belly lurched as the girl made a gurgling sound, as if she were drowning and trying to scream for help. “Lisa,” Phoe shouted, grabbing the girl by the arms. “You have to wake up, now.”
“Help her. Please help her,” Mrs. Brown sobbed, nearly swooning between her husband and Sigerson.
Whatever had taken possession of Lisa Brown in that moment gave her the strength of a full-grown man, and it wasn’t going down without a fight. “Get out of her,” Phoe screamed. When she tried to shake the girl, Lisa fought back. She writhed violently then began to shake. Another seizure took hold, the force of the convulsions knocking Phoe back. She stumbled over Lisa’s overturned chair and fell into the table. Her head connected with the corner and bright spots exploded in front of her eyes. She could feel herself losing consciousness.
A moment before everything went black, Phoe noticed that the vicar had come in and was standing in the vestibule, watching everything.
Fourteen
When Phoe came around, she was lying on her and Cage’s bed. Her head felt like an egg that had been cracked open to let the yolk dribble slowly out. At first, she suspected that she’d done some real damage. The room was so dim, but then she remembered where she was. She could hear Cage’s voice somewhere far away. She wanted him desperately, and called his name. It came out as barely a whisper.
“Cage?” she tried again and tried to sit up. She could see him standing by the door, talking in hushed tones with Professor Pankenthorpe, Eleanor, and Mr. Sockersby. The room spun, and she collapsed against the pillows with a thump.
“Phoe?” Cage turned and rushed to her bedside. “Thank God you’re awake.”
“Barely,” she croaked.
Cage knelt by her side and took her hand, kissing it over and over. “You scared me to death.”
“It’s a little bump on the head,” she slurred. “Nothing serious.”
“This time,” the professor said, walking through. “That port you’ve got can cause some serious damage if you aren’t careful.”
Phoe’s hand instinctively went to the small opening under her hairline. She hadn’t thought of it in so long that she’d almost forgotten it was there. “My port?”
Professor Pankenthorpe nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking out his pen light. He pried open her eyelids and checked the dilation of her pupils. “A heavy blow like the one you sustained has caused people with those things to suffer inoperable brain damage, nerve damage, insanity even. It’s the price you pay for mucking about with the natural order.”
“Natural order?” Cage chuckled. “I hardly think one little port constitutes mucking about with the natural order.”
“Think about it, Mr. St. John. That port is wired directly into Phoebe’s nervous system. If the wrong person got a hold of it, or hacked into it, there’s no limit to what could happen.”
“Oh, Alfie,” Eleanor scolded, entering the room with a cup of tea balanced in her hands. “You’re such an old fuddy-duddy. Don’t scare our precious Phoebe that way.”
Alfie chuckled. “You’ll have to excuse me. I used to work in biomechanics. On the side where something always went wrong.” He patted Phoe’s hand affectionately and stood up. “I think she’ll be all right.”
“Are you sure we don’t need to take her to the hospital?” Cage asked, his eyes fixed on Phoe.
“No, no. We’ll just watch her for now. She may have a mild concussion, but her pupils and coordination seem normal. You let us know if you start to feel nauseated or disoriented.”
“You mean more than I am right now?” Phoe asked.
Alfie smiled and nodded. He beckoned for Cage to come over and Eleanor immediately took his place at Phoe’s side.
“I am so sorry, Phoebe. I never thought things with Madame Theo would go so wrong so quickly.”
“Don’t worry about it, El,” Phoe assured. “My falling was an accident. How is Lisa?”
“Perfectly fine,” Eleanor answered. “When you fell down, Lisa fainted dead away. When she came around, she was back to normal.”
“Does she remember anything that happened?”
“Not a lick,” Eleanor replied. “Of course, Alfie looked at her too. He’s a fully qualified medical doctor, you know.”
“I thought he was a biology teacher.”
“Biophysics. But he used to work in biomechanical research at an IU medical facility. You know, using mech to cure diseases and repair injury.”
“I see,” Phoe mumbled. Her head was starting to ache and she could feel herself getting sleepy again.
“At any rate, Lisa seems fine and is resting in her parents’ suite. Thank heavens the vicar came in. We’d never have gotten the poor dear upstairs if it hadn’t been for Mr. Sockersby. Her mother was hysterical and, while I don’t like to speak ill of anyone, Mr. Brown was pretty useless. But Mr. Sockersby and that Tales from the Crypt valet of Madame Theo’s managed to get them all situated.”
“Mr. Sockersby?” Phoe asked. “He was there?”
“Oh yes. It was the strangest thing. He came downstairs well after lunch. When he did, he looked a bit worse for wear. He joined us for afternoon tea, but left right after. I didn’t expect him to come back at all, but when Lisa began her little, for lack of a better term, performance, it was like he appeared out of thin air.”
Phoe nodded. “I saw him before I blacked out. Curious, though.” There was something odd about the vicar’s behavior, but Phoe couldn’t quite put her finger on what. “Do you believe that the girl was possessed?”
Eleanor shrugged. “It certainly looked that way. But you remember how interested she was in the case that first evening. I suppose it’s possible that she read up on one of the victims and was doing a little playacting for our enjoyment.”
Phoe groaned, holding her head. “Enjoyment isn’t the word I’d use.”
“I’m not sure if it was a visitor from the other side or a horrifying experience.” She stood up and brushed a stray lock of hair away from Phoe’s forehead. “Whatever it was, I’m glad it’s over.”
“Me too. And that no one was hurt worse.”
“You get some rest now,” Eleanor said, giving Cage’s arm a squeeze as he approached. “You take good care of dear Phoebe.”
“I always do,” he replied, winking at Phoe.
Phoe drifted in and out of consciousness as the others broke up their conversations and slowly left the room. She couldn’t help feeling a wave of relief as they left. Ever since she was a child, Phoe had been a whiny patient. When she wasn’t feeling well, she wanted people to leave her alone, and right now Phoe could truthfully say that she was not feeling well.
“How’s it going, mouse?” Cage asked, sitting at the bedside. “Can I get you anything?”
Phoe handed over the sad cup of replicated
tea. “A glass of freshly brewed sweet tea would be amazing, but unfortunately I don’t think that exists here. So, an aspirin will do.”
Cage smiled and handed over the tiny pill. “I thought you might need one.”
“Thanks.” She knocked back the medicine.
Cage winced. “How do you swallow pills dry like that?”
“Sweetness, I’m from the south. The home of Goody powders.”
“The home of what?”
“Goody powders. It’s a headache medicine that’s an incredibly bitter powder. You swallow an envelope and your headache is gone in ten minutes. If you aren’t quite that sturdy, you can chase it with a swallow of cola. Works every time.”
Cage shuddered at the thought. “Well I don’t think I can help much with that, but I can brew a fresh cup of Earl Grey.” He went into the small case sitting on the bureau opposite and came up with a small box of loose tea. “I feel sure that Miss Abecrombie has a teapot.”
“You’re my hero.”
“Hardly.” Cage planted a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be right back to help you into your nightclothes.”
“Do you think it would be terrible to wear an old t-shirt?”
“I insist.” Cage winked, and disappeared downstairs.
Phoe laid back on the bed, thinking over the evening’s events. She wasn’t sure that she believed in channeling spirits, but Lisa’s re-enactment of one of the Ripper murders had certainly been convincing. Enough that she’d scared the daylights out of everyone present. Phoe thought she’d even seen a slight tremble in Sigerson’s hand during the ordeal.
Every single person staying at the Alice & Ludwig had been present at tonight’s séance, and every one of them had seemed pretty damned frightened at the sight of a teenaged girl being murdered by someone she couldn’t see. Tuggingham had interviewed all of them and come up short. However, she’d been around enough policemen to know when they had a hunch. Something in somebody’s story didn’t add up for the detective inspector. Each of them was a suspect in his mind.
Phoe thought over each of them. Which of the guests at the pension would be more likely to commit a cold-blooded murder? And one so violent? It didn’t seem possible. And what of the victims? There must be something connecting them, but what? Initially, Phoe had assumed they were all women, but Sigerson was likely the first. Which would also place the murders beginning almost a year ago, pretty much eliminating tourists. Of course, Phoe didn’t know how many victims there were. Tuggingham had made it fairly clear that they were not going to have access to any case files.
Phoe’s head was starting to spin with all the different possibilities, and her thinking was fuzzy. She closed her eyes and tried to quiet her mind, imagining the blue sky over her house in St. Francisville. Then, appearing out of the clouds was an idea she hadn’t thought of before.
“Well it wasn’t easy, but I managed to get a pot of tea made.” Cage returned bearing a tray. “I think Miss Abecrombie was insulted by the mere suggestion of tea that hadn’t been conjured from her replicating machine.” Phoe didn’t answer.
“Hey,” Cage called, setting the tray down. “Phoe? Are you all right?”
“Shush,” she ordered. “Give me a second.” After a moment, she opened one eye and peered at Cage. The strange theory was so nebulous. She wasn’t sure she was ready to share it with him yet. Especially not tonight when she was so utterly exhausted. “Never mind.”
Thankfully he accepted this and poured her a cup of tea. “Here, I put in a little extra milk and honey.”
“Thank you.” Hot tea was not her favorite. Phoe had been raised to take her tea over ice with too much sugar, but Cage had a way of making it the way she liked: the hot Earl Grey with enough honey to offset the bitterness and bring out the vanilla flavor. It was soothing to her soul.
After he poured himself a cup, Cage climbed into the bed at her other side. He was strangely quiet. The way he always got when he was treading on eggshells. Cage was not a quiet or careful man. More like a bull in a china shop, and his demeanor was starting to get to Phoe.
“Cage—”
“Phoe—” They spoke in unison.
“You first,” Cage insisted.
“No, you go ahead,” Phoe countered.
“No, no. I interrupted.”
“Would you say what you want to say?”
Cage sighed and put his cup aside. “Look, Phoe. I was thinking. You were absolutely right before. All that running around with Sigerson, chasing murderers and solving crimes. That’s not why we’re here.”
“Cage.”
“No. Listen to me. I’ve been an absolute bear ever since they told us we were going to be deactivated, and it isn’t fair to you. The truth is, I haven’t been relaxed and content in so long, I don’t think I quite remember how.”
Phoe shook her head. “No, I’ve been worse. Forcing you to have a good time the same way I do. Jessica and I used to fight about that as children. Like I can’t accept that other people don’t love the same things as me.”
“I am having a good time, Phoe.” He took her hands tenderly. “I’m with you, so I am having a good time. But you’re right about the murders. That’s for the police to solve.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. “We’re going to have the time of our lives. From now on.”
Phoe giggled. “As if you weren’t before.”
He thought this over and nodded guiltily. “I admit I was enjoying feeling that adrenaline rush in the morgue.” He slid against her side and threw an arm around her waist, pulling her around to face him. “But I enjoy you more.”
He started to kiss her, but Phoe pulled away. “Forget it.” She poked a fingertip in his chest.
“What?” he asked with a chuckle.
“You know what. The professor said I needed to rest. No sex with a concussion.”
Cage’s expression was that of a child whose favorite toy had been run over in the street. Phoe almost felt sorry for him. “None at all?”
“Nope. I’m afraid not.”
“Not even a kiss?” Cage poked his lip out. “Surely one, tiny little kiss?”
Phoe didn’t let him finish, pressing her mouth against his and kissing him eagerly. He returned it, caressing her lower lip between his and nibbling lightly. His kisses always took her breath away. The longer their embrace, the more desperate she was to do more than kiss him. She inched closer to his body. Her fitted skirt, still yet to be discarded, got in the way and she growled in frustration. Cage slipped his hand down her side, grabbing the end of it and pushing it higher so that she could throw her leg over his hip and nudge him closer.
“Mrs. St. John, I’m scandalized by such wanton behavior,” Cage teased, nuzzling into her neck.
Phoe’s insides thrummed at hearing him call her Mrs. St. John. She longed for the day when that would truly be her name and not a part she played. “I can’t help it, Mr. St. John. I’m so taken with your charms that I often forget myself.” She rubbed noses with him playfully once more and pulled back. “But I’m afraid my head is spinning. And not in the happy fun way.” Phoe lay back against the pillows, exhausted.
Cage sat up and gazed down at her. “My poor darling.” He crawled down the bed to where her feet were still clad in prim, leather boots and began unlacing them. “We need to get you undressed and into a warm bath.”
“That sounds divine.”
“Indeed. And here at the luxurious Alice & Ludwig Pension, our indoor plumbing is top of the line. Hot water and everything.”
“Ooh, fancy.”
Cage made quick work of her clothes and got Phoe into a steaming, aromatic bath. She could almost feel the stress and worry of the day slipping from her shoulders as she lay back against the curved porcelain. The aspirin had begun to take effect and her head wasn’t spinning as it had been.
The bathroom was exquisitely appointed, like the rest of the house. The fixtures, while they looked true to period, were modern in every way, complete with warming tiles unde
r their feet and inside the tub. For a long time she lay there, letting herself relax.
Cage knelt on the floor beside the tub, using the loofah sponge to lazily drip water and soap over her skin. For the first time on this trip, he looked like himself. His curly hair was wild with the humidity from the bath and tumbled over his forehead and eyes. He was topless and wore his old worn pajama trousers. His feet were bare. “You’re so beautiful, Cage,” she said, following the contours of his musculature with her eyes.
“Hmm, thank you, I suppose.”
“You really are. Inside and out. I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”
“The feeling is mutual, mouse.” He smiled. “Though, I think you’re much more beautiful than I.”
Phoe blushed. “Remember when we met on the maglev?”
“Vividly.”
“You were so scary,” Phoe said, laughing at the memory. “I remember nearly running into you. My face directly in your stomach. I was such a spaz.”
“You were adorable.”
“I didn’t feel adorable. I felt awkward and ridiculous and scared to death. I’m still surprised you saw through all that.”
Cage nudged her to lean forward so that he could rinse the soap off her back. “You shouldn’t be surprised. The core woman that you are was there all the time. Strong, sexy, and capable. You didn’t have any trouble telling me off, anyway.”
“God, not at first though. At first, I was afraid you were going to bash my head against a tree, steal all my money, and leave me for dead.”
“Thank you very much,” Cage laughed, splashing her. “I like to think I was a bit nicer than that.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t call it nice. You were terrifying.”
“I was not.”
“Oh really? I watched you turn into a really big dog and kill three men.”
“In my defense, they were trying to arrest you. Possibly kill you.”
“And then, of course, you threw my stuff away.”
“You were trying to carry a suitcase through the woods.”
Phoe giggled and brushed her fingers through his hair. “Can’t imagine why I wanted my clothes. But the important thing is, you stuck it out. I still don’t know why.”
In Absinthia Page 12