by C. J. Archer
My thoughts had wandered in an unexpected direction, dampening my frustration. I decided to leave the conversation about the girl in our visions alone for now. There were just too many unknowns. Even if she was in trouble, how would we find her?
"Where are you going, anyway?" I asked him, as he walked off again.
"To see Myer." He nodded at the ruins. "He's down there."
"What happened to him after I fainted?
"Tommy drove him back into the village when he went to fetch the doctor last night."
"Where is he staying?"
"With the mayor and his wife, the Butterworths." He shook his head, his face grim.
"You don't like the Butterworths?"
"I do, but… Myer once confessed that he and Mrs. Butterworth were having a liaison."
I gasped. "That's despicable. Poor Mr. Butterworth and Mrs. Myer."
He nodded. "Precisely. I thought they'd stopped since he hadn't been to the village for some time. It would appear there is still something afoot, however."
I liked the man less and less.
Myer waved at us from where he stood inside a crumbling arch. He looked like a man happy to be precisely where he was, pottering around a scattered pile of old stones.
"I'm very glad to see you up and about, Miss Evans," he said. "You had us concerned, last night."
"I'm well enough today, thank you."
"Here, Gladstone, what do you think of this?" He handed Samuel a wooden rectangular instrument.
"It's a thermometer," I said with a shrug of my shoulders.
Samuel turned it over. "And barometer," he said. "What will these tell you about paranormal patterns?"
"My apologies, I forgot that your theoretical knowledge of the supernatural is limited."
"My practical knowledge is bloody excellent," Samuel said, not apologizing for his foul language. "I have vast experience at sending demons back, for example."
If Myer felt the barb, he gave no indication. He seemed excited by his instruments, like a schoolboy in one of my own science classes, discovering how to make baking powder fizz.
"The temperature in these ruins is marginally lower than just outside," he said.
"You probably should allow for some inaccuracy in your instrument," Samuel said.
Myer waved his suggestion off. "The really exciting thing is the reading from the barometer. The atmospheric pressure inside these ruins is low. Outside, the reading is normal. Such extreme changes in a relatively small area are not possible."
"Meaning?" I prompted.
"Studies by society members have shown that the low temperature of an area, relative to the external temperature, is conducive to a higher concentration of supernatural activity. I believe that supernatural energy is playing havoc with the barometer, giving false readings."
"Do you mean there are more ghosts hereabouts?" I asked, looking around. Aside from some rather picturesque, moss-covered arches, broken walls and scattered stones, the ruins didn't look different to any other ruin. I did like it, though. It would be quite peaceful to sit against a stone and watch the sun sink over the horizon.
"Ghosts, demons and other creatures," Myer said.
"Demons?" Ghosts didn't particularly worry me, but demons did, after hearing about the terrible time Hannah and Jack had with them at Christmas.
"That's enough, Myer," Samuel said, his voice low. "There's no need to mention such things."
"My apologies." Myer bowed to me. "You have a delicate constitution. You shouldn't be frightened."
"I most certainly do not have a delicate constitution."
Beside me, Samuel smothered a chuckle, but not very well. I shot him a glare and he stopped smiling.
"My constitution is very strong," I told Myer. "Usually. You mentioned other creatures are attracted to these ruins. What other creatures are you referring to?"
"Fairies, angels, beasts that have been relegated to mere mythological status of late." He shrugged one shoulder. "All manner of things."
"Good lord. And what is it they come here to do?"
"I don't know, yet. I do know that this is an area that attracts them. Whether they're more likely to emerge from here, or just visit from time to time, I can't be sure yet. That's what I hope to discover."
"These creatures are not tourists, Myer," Samuel said. "In fact, I refute your theory altogether. If they were attracted to these ruins, we would know about it. Frakingham would be overrun by creatures."
"Yes," Myer murmured. "I've wondered the same thing. Are you sure you haven't seen any strange beasts running around since those demons were destroyed?"
"Only you."
Myer gave a tight smile. "Very amusing."
"The Langleys have lived here for years and they've not mentioned it. I think an excess of demons or angels is something they would have noticed and thought worth mentioning."
"Hmmm." He took the instrument back and studied the barometer. "It's most unusual."
"What made you think to look here in the first place?" I asked.
"Rumors among my fellow society members, mostly. Some have long suspected there were strong supernatural forces centered here. They've cited texts that mention odd behavior among visitors and residents alike."
"Perhaps those are referencing the ghosts of the little children who occupied the dungeon of the old house until recently," Samuel said.
Myer shook his head. "This is more specific to the ruins. In fact, some of the references date back to when the abbey was still here. There are reports of rituals being conducted within the abbey walls."
It was all giving me a terrible feeling in my gut. I didn't like to think of sinister things happening in such a pretty place. Indeed, it seemed impossible.
"Perhaps the rumors and reports refer back to a time when the abbey was still in use," Samuel said. "I imagine that once it crumbled, it lost some of the so-called magic you speak of."
"The reports persisted through the centuries. And look at these readings! I have pages of them in my notes." He indicated a notebook perched on a wall, the pages curling in the breeze.
"Why are the other society members not helping you with your research?" I asked.
"Langley insisted on me being the only one."
"Because he wishes to gather information from you for his own work?"
He glanced at Samuel then gave me a smooth smile. "I believe so, but I haven't spoken to him about it yet. We have an appointment for later today." He spread out his arms to encompass the ruins surrounding us. "What do you two think? Can you feel the different energy down here?"
"I feel nothing," Samuel said, rather shortly.
"It's a pretty spot." I gazed at the lake. The surface sparkled in the sunlight against a backdrop of greenery. Weeping willows dipped into the water's edge and a fat mother duck paddled lazily as her ducklings trailed behind her. "I certainly feel more at peace here. It's hard to imagine the things you speak of happening."
"Indeed."
"Mr. Myer, can you spare a few minutes to tell us about possession? We didn't have a chance to finish our discussion last night."
He indicated I should sit on a low wall. I did and he sat beside me while Samuel remained standing. "I don't have any personal experience with possession or ghosts, but I'll tell you what I know. If you require first-hand knowledge, I suggest you speak to your friends, the Beauforts."
"Miss Moreau has told me how she communicates with ghosts. She said that she can touch them, but others cannot. They're also limited to the place where they died and cannot move around freely."
"Unless they possess a living body," he said. "A ghost can choose to haunt the place where it died, or move on to the Otherworld. Spirits with unresolved problems will usually remain. It appears that the ghosts who choose to haunt are either angry individuals, who wish to punish the living, or were victims of heinous crimes perpetrated on them in life and wish to haunt their tormentor. By possessing a living person, they become tangible again and can infli
ct injury if they wish. And since the sort of ghost who haunts is often angered by how they were treated in life, then you can imagine what they would do once they found themselves in control of another's body. Possession is associated with evil for a good reason."
I shuddered. It all sounded so terrible. Samuel skimmed his fingers lightly across my shoulder and I found the simple touch reassuring.
"You have every right to be worried, Miss Evans. It's not easy to remove a spirit once it possesses. Indeed, only a spirit medium can do it, and they must get very near the possessed."
"We need Mrs. Beaufort and Cara's help," I muttered.
Samuel's hand squeezed. "We'll send a telegram immediately." He turned to Myer. "Why is possession so uncommon? Mrs. Beaufort tells me she and Miss Moreau are kept busy assisting unhappy spirits to cross over. If there are so many unhappy spirits, there should be an abundance of possessions."
Myer's face clouded and his lips flattened. "It's not easy for ghosts to possess. Indeed, they have to be summoned into the body. They cannot do it alone."
Samuel's breath hitched. "But only mediums can summon spirits."
"Precisely."
"No," I said. "I don't believe Cara or Mrs. Beaufort would do that."
"Could it happen accidentally?" Samuel asked.
Myer shook his head. His sharp gaze connected with mine. "There are specific words that trigger it. One of them must have spoken them."
"Or there's another spirit medium. One that nobody knows about, who is intent on causing chaos."
CHAPTER 10
The existence of a third spirit medium certainly seemed the most likely explanation. According to Cara, all mediums were descendants of a lost African tribe. In essence, they were all relatives, but they had been scattered across the world through the centuries after white man almost destroyed the tribe. Only women could be mediums, but the ability was passed down the male line. Their number was unknown.
"If there were a third, I'm sure I would be aware of her presence here in England," Myer said.
Samuel's eyes darkened ominously. "Are you suggesting that Emily or Cara are responsible? Careful, Myer. Be very careful."
Myer held up his hands. "I am merely stating facts. Here's another fact for you, Gladstone. Did you know that Miss Cara Moreau once summoned the spirit of a murderer into a body?"
"That doesn't mean she would do it again!" Samuel exploded.
I rested my hand on his arm. My touch seemed to work, because he calmed a little. "When did this happen?" I asked Myer.
"Some years ago."
"Well then, she must have been too young to know what she was doing." I refused to believe that my friend would summon an evil spirit on purpose. She was much too good-natured to do such a thing. "We need to focus our energies on finding this other medium. If we find her, she can tell us whose body she summoned the spirit into."
"If she wants to," Samuel said. "It's likely she won't."
"She could be difficult to find," Myer said. "Indeed, she may have even left the country altogether. Theoretically, a spirit could possess a body indefinitely. I have no knowledge of long-term possession, however, so it remains theory only at this stage."
"If the spirit of the master possessed someone months or even years ago, she could indeed have disappeared." The slim hope I'd momentarily clutched was dashed. We were back to where we began. Nowhere.
"Isn't it likely that it happened recently?" Samuel asked. "It's only now that he's come for Charity, after all."
Myer shook his head. "Perhaps that's only because the visions connecting you three have begun. He must have identified you and your location from the visions, Miss Evans."
Something I'd been wondering about clicked into place. "I think I was looking up at the school's sign when I had a vision on the day of the attempted abduction. That's what made him send his man to the school in the first place."
I shivered again. It was horrible enough knowing someone could see through my eyes, but the fact that he'd found me that way was worse. "Why do you think we have the visions at all? They're terribly inconvenient. Particularly when I don't know when they'll happen."
"Oh, but you do," Myer said. "Think of every time you've had a vision. What is the common factor?"
"At first they happened when we touched," I said, looking at Samuel. "Then it was…"
"When we argued," Samuel finished for me. "One or both of us grew angry or upset. I suspected as much and now you've confirmed my suspicions, Myer. Last night, when I caught you sneaking around down here, I was furious with you."
"I was not sneaking, Gladstone. Merely wandering."
"It's not important," I cut in, before they could clash again. "The important thing is we now know what to do to stop the visions. Remain calm."
Samuel flexed his fingers, as if releasing some tension through them. "I'll try," he said quietly. "It's just that I seem to have a quicker temper now than I used to."
He wasn't looking for an answer, so I didn't tell him it had been that way ever since he'd acquired my memory. I suspected he already knew.
"You may find other triggers," Myer said. "Other heightened emotions could lead to further visions. It will be interesting to conduct an experiment. Perhaps fear or even desire may be factors."
"We are not case studies," I said hotly.
"Aren't you?" He eyed the house. "Have you told August Langley that?"
"What do you mean?"
"Don't listen to him," Samuel snarled. "He's trying to unsettle you."
Then he'd succeeded. August Langley was an odd man, his assistant too. Whatever they were up to in his laboratory, with his chemicals and strange contraptions, had certainly better not involve me. I was no one's experiment.
Myer stood and studied his barometer again. "If you don't mind, I have work to do." He already seemed lost in his own thoughts, our presence and our problems forgotten.
Samuel and I picked our way out of the ruins. When we reached the lawn, he said, "I'll have Tommy go into the village and send a telegram to the Beauforts. They need to be made aware of the third medium, even if there's nothing they can do about her."
"Or about the possession," I said heavily.
His pace slowed and I slowed too. "I'll protect you, Charity. I won't let anyone harm you. You must believe me." His voice was thick and rich. It vibrated across my skin and seeped down into my bones. My head went a little dizzy and I had a ridiculous urge to throw my arms around him.
His head jerked back, as if I'd slapped him. He came to an abrupt halt. "Charity!"
I shook my head and the dizziness vanished. I no longer wanted to grasp him and kiss him all over. Well, actually I did, but not with as much ferocity. How very strange.
I touched my fingers to my temple. "Yes?"
He pressed the heel of his hand to his right eye. "My God, I'm so sorry. I, I didn't know I was doing that."
"Doing what?" And then it struck me. He'd almost hypnotized me. Luckily he'd caught himself before the act was complete, but what if he hadn't? I had succumbed so easily to his lovely voice, his kind manner.
Oh God. My chest tightened. My throat closed. I gasped and gasped again, but it was useless. It was as if the air was too thick to breathe.
"Charity? Charity, what's wrong?"
I couldn't answer him. I bent over, desperate to ease the ache in my chest. My damned corset was too tight! He touched the back of my neck. His hand was warm, solid, reassuring as he rubbed.
And then it was heavy. Too heavy. He was too close. I pushed him away, not hard, but he stumbled back a few steps. I straightened and sucked in air once more.
"Charity?" he whispered. His eyes were wide and unblinking, their depths endless. If I had to guess, I'd say he was frightened.
By my reaction?
Or by what he'd done?
"Is that what August Langley is studying in his laboratory? Your hypnosis? And am I your test subject?"
"No," he whispered through bloodless lips.
>
My temper grew stronger, now that I could breathe again. "Are you trying to see how easy it is for me to be hypnotized into doing whatever you want?"
"Absolutely not."
"How can I be sure?"
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again they were softer, yet edged with pain. "Because I already know how easy it is for me to hypnotize you."
My heart dropped like a stone. I was fooling myself if I thought I could trust him. Here was a man who could get people to do whatever he wanted with mere words, a fact I'd almost forgotten. What man could resist such power?
"I am not proud of it," he said. "But I can control it."
"You almost didn't, then."
His brow creased. "Yes," he murmured.
"Why?" I was aware of the heat in my voice, the challenge in my tone. I didn't care. Samuel needed someone to confront him, resist him, and it would seem it would be up to me.
"I don't know," he said. "Charity, please understand that I would never hypnotize you against your wishes. I have no desire to win your affections through false means."
So he wanted to win them through other ones?
I lifted my chin in acknowledgement. Whether he spoke the truth or not, I had to accept his explanation. The fact was, Samuel was the only person I could turn to, and Frakingham House the only safe place for me.
Nevertheless, I would have to be vigilant when he was speaking. As soon as he spoke in that voice again, I would leave the room. Or slap him.
We stood there, a little apart, almost like strangers again. No, not quite. Strangers were not as awkward as we were; he could no longer look me in the eyes. My insides twisted suddenly into a knot. Despite what had happened, despite my distrust, I didn't want us to be on unfriendly terms. I didn't want to be a stranger to him. I wanted… what?
I didn't know. All I knew was that if the awkwardness continued, I would be forever sorry.
But I could not think of a single thing to say to him to crack through the ice between us.