by C. J. Archer
"Mr. Culvert," she said, "you do say the most absurd things." Her laughter faded when she saw that nobody else joined in.
"If he were a demon," Samuel said, "wouldn't he have…consumed one of us?"
"Only if he were hungry," Mr. Culvert said.
Sylvia put her napkin to her mouth and stifled a cry.
"Tate may be feeding him," Culvert went on. "In which case Ham doesn't need extra sustenance."
"What would Tate feed him?" Sylvia asked.
"Animals, birds…"
"Ugh."
Mr. Beaufort nodded, thoughtful. "Tate must be controlling it, telling it what to do."
"We've come across this before," Mr. Culvert said. "Somehow Tate has found a way to summon a demon and control it. The first thing it must have consumed when it arrived in this realm was a man of Ham's likeness."
"That's why it looks so human," Mrs. Beaufort said.
Sylvia gave another cry and fled the room entirely. Nobody went after her. I was much too fascinated by what our guests were saying not to hear more.
"It explains why Ham is so strong," Samuel said. "And how they escaped prison. I knew there had to be another explanation."
"So," Mr. Langley cut in. "We have two demons on the loose."
Quiet descended again as that piece of information sank in.
Nobody ate much after that. Langley returned to his room and the Beaufort party prepared to leave. We met them again twenty minutes later in the entrance hall to say our goodbyes.
"This visit has been much too short," Mrs. Beaufort said, hooking her arm through mine.
Miss Moreau took my other arm. "We've enjoyed meeting you all immensely."
"And we you," I said. "Thank you for your assistance this morning. I'm sorry you were embroiled in our troubles."
"I'm glad we were here to help," Mr. Beaufort said with a bow.
Mr. Culvert agreed. "I can't imagine how you fought Ham off the last time, Langley."
Jack merely shrugged. "The fire helped."
"And your speed?"
"That too."
"Thank you for the information about demons," Samuel said. "It's been an invaluable lesson. Hopefully we can use some of that knowledge to remove it."
"I'll do more research at home and write out an incantation to send the rogue demon back, but in the mean time you must do something for me."
"What is that?" Langley asked.
"Investigate the dungeon. Find out how it came to be here. Are there any signs of supernatural activity down there? An amulet or something otherworldly that could have been used to summon it perhaps?"
"Is that important to send it back?" Sylvia asked, hugging herself. I admired her for staying put and not running off this time.
"It may be," Culvert said. "If it were summoned from this side, then a simple incantation said in its presence and that of the amulet will return it."
Her eyes widened. "Somebody brought it here?" she asked, echoing my own thoughts.
"Tate perhaps," I offered.
Jack's gaze locked with mine. "I would say it's quite likely."
"Let's not jump to conclusions," Mr. Culvert said. "On occasion, demons have appeared in this realm with no one taking claim for summoning it. I believe they've been sent from their own realm for a purpose."
"Surely not," Samuel said.
Mr. Culvert pushed his glasses up his nose. "It's a possibility. It's also possible that no one owns up to summoning it because they're afraid of the repercussions. I can't be sure, so I keep an open mind."
"Very commendable."
We said more goodbyes at the door. Tommy handed out coats, hats and gloves, then Jack escorted the Beauforts to the waiting carriage. The landau had been equipped with torches tied to the coach lamps. They blazed brightly in the hazy morning light. Hopefully they wouldn't encounter any demons since they weren't traveling near the woods, but it was best to be careful.
Jack returned and escorted Miss Moreau out then came back for Mr. Culvert.
"If you learn anything more about this Ham creature, let me know. And about yourself too," Mr. Culvert said to Jack.
As they walked down the steps, I could see Jack ask him something and then they both stopped suddenly. Mr. Culvert spoke, but I couldn't hear his words. There was a lot of head shaking and shrugging, then he shook Jack's hand before climbing into the carriage.
Jack waved them off and returned inside and shut the door.
"Well?" Langley said.
"Well what?"
"What did you ask him?" Sylvia prompted. "You know, you should have just asked him in front of us. It would save repeating it."
"I didn't ask in front of you because I wasn't sure I wanted you to hear the answer."
"And now?" Samuel asked.
"You don't have to tell us anything, Jack," I said.
Sylvia snorted softly. "He most certainly does. We are all stuck here together with two demons running about and a madman controlling one of them. What else could be said that would make things worse?"
"It's all right," Jack said to me. "He didn't say anything too alarming."
"Well?" Langley said again. "What did you ask him?"
"I wanted to know if he thought I was a demon."
"A what!" Sylvia spluttered. "Don't be absurd. Of course you're not. What gave you that idea?"
"Ham, my abilities. If it was just the fire starting, I would have thought nothing of it, but as you all pointed out, there's the speed too, and the swimming."
"What did he say?" I asked, my chest tightening. My hands felt hot and I blew on the palms to cool them. It didn't help.
Sylvia took a step away from Jack, but eyed him closely.
"He doesn't think I'm a demon," he said.
She breathed a sigh. "Thank goodness. Of course, we knew you weren't. It was an absurd notion."
"I needed to hear an expert's opinion."
"What explanation did he give for coming to his conclusion?" Langley asked.
I didn't point out that Jack had claimed Culvert only thought he wasn't a demon. That wasn't a conclusion. I was surprised Langley overlooked the distinction since he was a scientist. I too decided to dismiss it, however. Jack was most certainly not like Ham or that creature.
Then again, he wasn't like us either.
"For one thing, I'm too human," he said. "I behave and speak like a human. I have my own will and desires." He glanced at me. "I assured him they were very human in nature too."
"Anything else?" Langley snapped.
"He doesn't think I'm strong enough. Demon strength is unnatural, he said. Like Ham's. He's not seen any evidence to the contrary."
"That's comforting," Sylvia offered.
Not really, but I didn't tell her that it meant Jack couldn't fight either Ham or the other demon on his own. He would almost certainly lose if pitted in battle against either for any length of time. Thank goodness for his fireballs. Perhaps now that he knew Ham wasn't human, he wouldn't hesitate to use them if attacked.
"I have work to do," Langley said. Bollard stepped forward to wheel him away, but Jack intervened.
"Who are my parents?" he asked casually.
Langley sighed. "We've spoken about this. I can't answer you."
Can't or won't? "I thought you and Jack's father were brothers," I said.
"Yes," Jack said quietly, not taking his eyes off his uncle. "That's what he'd have everyone believe."
Bollard wheeled Langley away. The four of us watched him go.
Jack heaved a great sigh that seemed to deflate him. He looked exhausted. "It's always the same response. I'm growing tired of his evasion."
"You think he's lying?" Samuel asked.
Jack shrugged. "I don't know, but he's never satisfactorily answered my questions about my father or told me how he came to find me in London."
"Yet you came to live here with him anyway," I said. "Why, when you had doubts?"
"Would you want to live here if your home was a derelict house
and you were always hungry?"
"You're right, I'm sorry." I bit my lip, wishing I could take it back.
"It's all right, Hannah," he said gently. "I came here because it was a way out of London and that life. The only way. I don't regret it. I do regret not asking more questions back then. He may have been more willing to give them if I'd refused to come with him. Now he probably doesn't see the need. I don't mind telling you that I was afraid he'd throw me out if I questioned him too much."
"Are you still afraid of that?"
It was a long time before he answered me. "This is my home, my family. Before today, I didn't want to jeopardize it over something that essentially changed nothing. Now, my need to know has grown."
"Then why not go and pester him until he answers?" Sylvia said.
"Because being thrown out means leaving Hannah here, and you. He's your guardian, and Wade is Hannah's. I can't take either of you with me until you're twenty-one."
"What have you already asked him about your father?" Samuel asked.
"What was he like? Was he older or younger than August? What were their parents like? Could anyone else in the family do this?" He looked down at his hands, turning them over to look at the backs as well as the palms.
"It can't be from your father," Sylvia said. "Or I'd be able to do it too, and Uncle."
She'd missed the point entirely. Jack doubted he was even related to her and Langley. I had strong doubts too. There seemed to be no reason for Langley to be so tight-lipped about it, unless it was all a lie.
"It's frustrating to think he may have answers and is refusing to tell me," Jack said.
"I'm sure he'd tell you if it were important," Sylvia said.
"It's important to me!"
She swept her hands in an arc to encompass the entrance hall where we stood with its high ceiling, grand staircase and arched doors leading to a maze of corridors and rooms. "You said it yourself. You cannot risk losing all this by asking questions about people who have had very little bearing on your life."
I failed to see how parents could have very little bearing on one's life since they were the ones who'd given that life, but I didn't say anything. Jack was clearly frustrated, and she was obviously disinterested. I couldn't see them ever agreeing.
"At least we now know what we must contend with in Ham," I said, changing the subject.
Samuel seemed relieved to have the subject changed too. He leapt on the new topic eagerly. "It's certainly better than not knowing."
Sylvia shuddered. "How can we defeat a demon? Two demons! We have no special sword, incantation or amulet. Not even the so-called expert could help us."
"Be fair, Syl," Jack said. "Culvert did say the incantation depends on how Ham came to be here. We know that Tate probably summoned Ham, but as for the other demon, we must find out how it arrived in our realm. I'll investigate the trench."
"Alone?" Tommy asked. He'd been standing quietly to one side, listening to our conversation but not interfering.
Jack headed for the door. "You're not coming."
"But—"
"No! We've been through this." He opened the door and was gone before any of us could urge him to be careful.
Tommy stormed off in the direction of the service area, clearly irritated at being left out.
Sylvia watched him go, sighed, then turned to me. "What shall we do today, Hannah? Would you like to embroider together?"
I'd rather spend the morning facing down a demon. "I think I'll rummage through the attic some more."
"Good idea," Samuel said. "I'll meet you up there." He headed up the stairs, taking two at a time.
Sylvia watched him go and sniffed. "Why bother? We already had a thorough look and found nothing. Besides, Mr. Culvert didn't say anything about understanding the spirits of the children, only that we must learn how the demon came to be here."
"Nevertheless, it makes me feel useful. I cannot sit and do nothing."
"Embroidery is not nothing, Hannah. Nor is painting or sketching or— I've just had a thought! Why don't we sketch Miss Moreau's and Mrs. Beaufort's outfits? We can give them to our dressmaker when next we're in London."
"You're such a wonderful artist, Sylvia, why don't you do it? I couldn't possibly do justice to the designs with my lack of skill."
"You have a point."
I didn't know whether to laugh that my flattery had worked or be offended.
We went our separate ways, but instead of heading to the attic, I instead went in search of Tommy. I found him in the small room off the kitchen where the silver was kept in locked cabinets. The doors of one cabinet were flung open, displaying the impressive array of silver plate, candlesticks, and tea services. Tommy sat at the square central table wearing white gloves. He was rubbing a spot on a teapot with a cloth over and over as if it wouldn't come clean. It looked shiny enough to me.
"Careful," I said, "you'll make Aladdin's genie appear, and we have quite enough supernatural creatures on our hands thank you."
He paused and inspected his handiwork. "Wasn't the genie confined to a lamp?" With a sigh, he put the teapot down and picked up a platter. "Is there something I can do for you, Miss Smith?"
"Tommy, please call me Hannah when we're alone together."
"No."
"You're as stubborn as he is, you know."
"Which Mr. Langley are you referring to?" He dabbed some of the silver cleaner onto his rag and smeared it over the platter.
"The description fits them both, but I was referring to Jack."
Tommy's rubbing got harder. "He shouldn't have gone out by himself."
I sat on the chair beside him and put my hand over his, stilling it. He looked at me. "Tommy, you can't go with him this time. You're injured and he was right. He can't use the fire if you're in trouble. He can't risk hurting you."
"Doesn't make it any easier to sit here doing nothing while he's out there." He snatched his hand away and threw the rag on the table.
"I know."
He looked at me and frowned. "Sorry, ma'am, it can't be easy for you either."
"Like you, I've decided to keep busy while he's off investigating the trench." I picked up the rag and the platter and began polishing.
He chuckled. "You must want to ask me something."
"Is it that obvious?"
He took back the rag and the platter. "You need gloves, and you're doing it wrong anyway."
"There's a technique to this?"
"Of course. Do you want me to show you, or do you want to ask me what you came down here to ask?"
"You're much too perceptive, Tommy."
"We footmen have to be." He winked. "We have to know what our masters and mistresses want before they do themselves."
"Is that so? In that case, what have I come to ask you?"
"Something about Jack."
I sighed. "I really am obvious, aren't I?"
"Only where Jack's concerned. Go on then. Out with it."
"I want to know why he doesn't like to use his fireballs on people, not even to save himself."
"Ah." He returned to polishing the platter, circling the rag around the rim slowly, thoughtfully. "Why don't you ask him?"
"Because I suspect he won't tell me."
"Then it's not my place to tell you either."
I sighed. "As frustrating as it is, I admire your loyalty."
He went to pick up the bottle of silver polish, but I snatched it away. "Miss Smith, pass me the bottle please."
I held it behind my back.
He gave me a lopsided grin. "I won't tell you, no matter how many times you ask or what games you play."
"I have a different question then."
"You ask a lot of questions."
"So I've been told."
He tapped his gloved fingers on the table. "You'd better go on before Mrs. Moore comes in. She doesn't like me talking to the ladies of the house."
"Tell me about Miss Charity Evans."
His smile started slowly at
one corner of his mouth and spread to the other. "Ah. Her."
"Who is she and how does Jack know her? And this time, don't tell me it's not my place to ask."
"You've got naught to worry about, Miss Smith."
"Who said I was worried?"
I handed him the bottle of polish, but he set it and the rag down on the table. "Very well, you want to know about Miss Charity, I'll tell you. She grew up with us in London."
"She was an orphan?"
He nodded. "She joined us when we were aged about nine. Jack found her shivering on a street corner one winter. She wore no shoes, no coat, and no one was buying the matches she was trying to sell. She was half dead. He took her back to our place—"
"Your place?"
"We lived in an abandoned house. It was an old building, almost falling down around us. Some of the beams had broken and rotted away, floorboards and entire walls were missing. I'm sure it was held together with nothing more than cobwebs and dust. But it had a roof and that's all we needed with Jack's fire to keep us warm. He brought Charity home and we fed her as best we could with what food we could find. Like all the others, she never left."
"Was she a…particular friend of Jack's?"
He gave me that grin again. I was finding it quite irritating. "Of sorts."
"What does that mean?"
He chuckled. I didn't know what he found so amusing. He probably suspected I was jealous. He was right.
His smile faded as the gaze in his eyes grew distant. "They was fond of each uvver," he said, slipping into the London accent I'd heard him use only with Jack. "She were a match for Jackie, though. They both had terrible tempers back in them days and would rail at each uvver over nuffing. What I thought was nuffing, anyways. After the flare ups, they wouldn't talk for days sometimes, but then somefing would happen and they'd all be friendly again, if you know what I mean."
Unfortunately, I did. "At fourteen? Isn't that a little young to be…getting friendly?"
My question seemed to shock him out of his reverie and his accent. "I, uh, suppose so." He blushed fiercely. "But you've got to remember that we lived differently. Our world had few rules. What wasn't acceptable for the rest of society was perfectly all right to us. There were no manners or etiquette, and no adults to teach us proper behavior." He grew redder and redder and eventually returned to polishing the platter, too embarrassed to look at me.