“That’s all very nice, Miss Mills.” Dora turned from the painting she’d been studying, her smile brittle and strained. “I imagine you could endure almost anything and emerge unscathed. To be brutally honest, Alina is the one we’re concerned about.”
I stepped between the two of them, determined not to let the sniping continue or allow them come to blows. Given the scowl on Libby’s face, blows were a very real possibility. “Yes, how is Alina? She was so completely shattered, I worried about her all night. Has she remembered anything more?”
“Alina is doing as well as can be expected.” Libby gave Isadora a spite-filled look and turned her back, dismissing her. Dora rolled her eyes and began restlessly stalking the entry again. “I sat with her a large part of the night. She kept starting awake, or sitting up and talking in her sleep. Alina didn’t really settle down until nearly four. Last I looked in, she was still sleeping. I saw no reason to wake her.”
I traded looks with Dora. Sleep might relax the walls around her memory. “Do you remember any of what she said, Libby? It might be important.”
“I’m afraid not.” She frowned and brushed at a spot on her blouse. “At times I thought she was calling out names, but I can’t say for sure. She wasn’t speaking English.”
A barefoot, tow-haired little boy of not more than three or four dashed into the entry. He ran as quickly as he could and hid behind Libby’s skirts. She scooped him up, giving him a hug and ruffling his hair. “We have company, Jake. Mind your manners and say a proper hello to Mrs. Ryan and Miss Bobet.”
Jake laid his head on Libby’s shoulder and smiled shyly. “Hello.”
“Hello, Jake.” I gently tapped the tip of his nose, earning a grin. “Pleased to meet you.”
Libby hugged him again and set him down. “All right, you’ve seen who came in, nosy boy. Now back to the kitchen with you. Tell Patty I said to give you some bread and butter. That should keep you busy for a minute or two.”
He ran back the way he’d come. Dora watched him go, her expression an odd mix of tenderness and sadness. “He misses his mother. Each time the front door opens, he hopes she’s come back again.” She turned to Libby, all trace of impatience and anger gone. “Does he talk about what happened?”
“How did you—?” Libby stared, her already fair skin losing what little color it held. She wrapped her arms across her chest, holding tight to herself and what she believed. “Please stop pretending some spirit guide or magic power tells you things. The only way for you to know about my sister is from Sam. Since you asked, no, Jake doesn’t remember anything about that night. He’s even stopped asking for Miranda. She wouldn’t have wanted how she died following him the rest of his life.”
Dora looked the way Jake had gone, one long lacquered nail tapping against the clasp of her handbag. She glanced at me and moved closer to Libby, stopping short when Libby took a step back. “Take this advice to heart, Libby, for Jake’s sake. He remembers much more than you think about his mother’s death. Get him to talk about the happy things surrounding his mother’s memory. Right now, all he associates with your sister is the horror of watching her die. Believe me when I say that will do far more damage in the end.”
“And you know all this after one minute with my nephew?”
“Children haven’t learned to build walls around their feelings.” Dora rummaged in her bag and immediately snapped it closed again. She’d taken to always leaving her flask at home, a newly reached compromise with Randy, but at times she still looked for it. “They leave that to the adults in their lives. He’s confused and afraid, but doesn’t think he can tell you. Somehow Jake’s gotten the idea he should pretend all’s well.”
Libby’s lower lip trembled, the first crack I’d seen in her armor. “I’d never do anything to hurt Jake. Sam told me to trust you, so I’ll trust you on this. That doesn’t mean I believe in spirits or all the rest.”
“Of course not.” Dora grimaced and massaged her temple. “Now, be a dear and tell us where to find Alina.”
“Her room is on the second floor.” Libby brushed a hand over her eyes. “I’ll take you up.”
She led us down a short hallway to the foot of the stairs. The air of age and faded grace that surrounded the house grew stronger as we climbed. Wallpaper in the stairwell had faded to nothing but hints and shadows of rosebuds, and each stair creaked alarmingly under our weight. Libby didn’t seem to notice the way the banister wobbled, but I did.
Dora gripped my arm tight and trailed a hand against the wall, her bright smile firmly in place each time Libby glanced back. I’d have to be made of wood not to feel her tremble, or hear how her breath rasped with the effort of taking each step. Why she felt the need to put up a brave front for Libby I couldn’t say. “Are you all right?”
Her smile wobbled as badly as the banister, but the amusement in her eyes was reassuring. “We’ve known each other more than four years, and yet you still feel the need to ask. I’m touched.” Dora fixed her gaze on the second-floor landing. “No, I’m far from all right, but I’ll survive. There is so much pain in this house, Dee, so much pent-up sorrow. I’d no idea or I’d have insisted on making other arrangements for Alina. She’ll be much better off coming home with me.”
I leaned close. “Libby won’t take that well. Convincing her will be difficult.”
“I’ve no intention of convincing her of anything. Disabusing her of the notion she’s Alina’s savior is much closer to the truth. I’ll force the issue if need be. Gabe will listen to reason even if Libby refuses.” Children’s voices drifted down the stairs, singing and playing games. Dora glanced up at where Libby waited on the landing. “I didn’t realize so many children lived in the house. Not asking was foolish and compounds my mistake, but it’s another reason to take Alina out of here as soon as possible. I doubt Libby realizes the great risk she’s exposed these children to by taking Alina in.”
“I share at least half the blame. I never thought to ask, and I knew the kind of work she does.” Libby was young and idealistic, eager to save the world and with no real belief in evil. She saw everything in terms of obstacles to be overcome. I’d been like Libby Mills once, naïve and convinced there was nothing in the world I couldn’t handle on my own. “Libby has no idea of the danger. She thinks it’s safe here because it’s always been safe.”
Dora squeezed my arm. “Let’s hope she’s right. Moving Alina will go a long way toward making that so.”
We topped the stairs and Libby gestured toward the end of the corridor. “I gave her the bedroom near the end on the right. The room is small, but it’s away from the younger children and very quiet.”
I locked arms with Dora, letting her lean on me more heavily. “I’m sure you did your best, Libby. Lead the way.”
We’d only just started down the hall before the sound of pounding on the front door echoed in the front entryway. Libby turned, startled. “The two of you go on. I have to get that.”
Dora grabbed her sleeve. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
Libby stared pointedly at Dora’s fingers until she let go. “I know what I’m doing. There’s a peephole that gives me a view of the whole porch. I won’t open the door unless I can see who is there.” She started down the steps, calling back over her shoulder. “Besides, Gabe has men watching from across the street. I’ll be safe enough.”
The corners of Dora’s mouth twitched, edging toward a smile. “Touchy, isn’t she? Let’s go wake Alina.”
Alina’s door stood open a few inches, giving us a view of her sleeping face. Her hair pooled on the pillow, framing her face and rendering her beautiful as a storybook princess. I started to push the door open wide, but Dora stayed my hand.
“Wait, Dee.” Isadora shut her eyes and cocked her head to the side, face screwed up in concentration. “Do you feel that?”
I concentrated as well, reaching out beyond the surface world. The sensation of falling into the watcher’s eyes was stronger this time, more intense, as
was the sense of being judged. Release came faster as well, but this time it hadn’t let go of us completely. We were on a tether. “The guardian.”
“Yes. Your watcher isn’t hiding any longer, at least not from us.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “I do wish spirit creatures could master the art of introducing themselves without giving me a splitting headache. I suppose I should be grateful we’re not barred from entering. Open the door, Dee.”
I’d half expected the hinges to creak, but the door swung open without a sound, a detail I almost failed to notice. Alina’s room was full of ghosts, an assembled choir of dead royalty much like I’d seen on the streets before the parade. They stood around Alina’s bed in a half circle, ranged in neat rows that melted into the walls and continued beyond the boundaries of chipped paint and torn wallpaper. Kings in velvet tunics and queens in silk gowns, princes and princesses in rich court dress, and minor nobility I couldn’t name, they all stood guard while she slept.
The assembled dead royals turned as one to stare as Dora and I entered the room. They were all faceless, unrecognizable as having once lived, or ever being human. A macabre mask of writhing mist replaced their features, but that didn’t stop the sensation of scores of watching eyes that slithered over my skin.
“Oh dear God … Dora.” I recoiled and took a step back, not knowing why the spirits were there or what kind of ghost manifested as a faceless wraith. “What are they?”
“At a guess? Adjuncts to the guardian. They don’t mean her any harm or they wouldn’t be allowed so close. Now, hush a moment and let me think.” Dora leaned against the doorframe and studied the ghosts through narrowed eyes. That she didn’t seem overly concerned calmed my nerves. “Do you remember what Alina said about dreaming of her parents?”
The answer came back to me right away, leaving me to wonder how I’d ever forgotten. I stared at the faceless haunts filling the room. “She said that she could never see their faces.”
Dora had moved farther into the small room, edging carefully around the outer line of spirits. I followed on her heels, even more careful not to brush against a ghost. The agony would pass quickly, but the thought of experiencing how any of these people had died was terrifying.
“Exactly.” Isadora never took her eyes from the ghosts. “And now we find her deep asleep and surrounded by a host of faceless phantoms. The easy answer would be that these are her memories, and they well may be, but I don’t think that’s the entire story. Alina didn’t wake when we came in or began talking, and frankly that concerns me. Whether these are avatars of her memories or not, I don’t think we should start banishing ghosts willy-nilly. These manifestations are more than symbolic.”
“Maybe all this is part of the watcher’s protections. A way to cushion the blow of everything she’s lost.” I knew the words were true as soon as I’d said them. “Everyone Alina loves is still alive in her dreams.”
Dora continued to edge around ghosts, leading me deeper into the room. “The same could be said for all of us, Delia. Dreams are the greatest bastion against losing someone forever. We can go on and pick up our lives with someone as if death or time had never interrupted.”
“Do you often dream of Daniel?” The question was out before I stopped to think how it might make Dora feel. She stopped with her back to me, shoulders held rigid, and I was afraid I’d hurt her. Daniel had been dead two years, killed in Portugal during the war, but he and Isadora had been lovers and friends a long time. “I’m sorry, Dora. I shouldn’t have asked you that.”
“No, no, the question was fine. You just made me think for a moment. I sometimes dream about Daniel, but those dreams aren’t about picking up our life again. All of them involve his leaving for Europe or saying good-bye in one form or another.” Dora looked back over her shoulder with a small, hesitant smile and held a hand out to me. Her cold fingers gripped mine tight. “When I dream of the past, and losing someone, I dream of John and Atlanta. John Lawrence is the one who haunts me. Now, let’s see about waking Alina.”
An old, scratched, and scarred chest of drawers sat against the wall opposite the bed. The small mirror hanging behind it had lost most of its silver around the edges, but the princess ghost brightened into view in the small shiny spot left in the center. She looked past Dora and me, out into the hallway.
I discovered why soon enough. The sound of raised voices, shouts, and feet pounding up the creaky stairs carried into Alina’s room.
Stained chintz curtains on the small corner window fluttered frantically, each gust of wind that whipped the fabric carrying a hint of women’s voices crying out in loss and sorrow. Thick black smoke billowed in the open window, filling the room with an acrid smell and burning my eyes. Flakes of papery ash rode the wind, drifting in to coat Alina’s bed and settle on her hair.
Isadora leaned out the open window, searching for the source of the smoke. She pulled back inside quick enough and slammed the window shut. Smoke still leaked around the casement, and the muffled keening of the wind could be heard, but the drift of falling ash stopped. “Delia, we need to get Alina on her feet right now. The corner of the building is on fire.”
Fire caught quickly in old buildings like this, sometimes spreading through most of a block before the fire brigades arrived. I was much more afraid of dying in a raging inferno than of plowing through the army of ghosts watching over Alina. That the spirits drew back from me, melting into one another and leaving a clear path to the bed, was a surprise and an unlooked-for blessing. Now wasn’t the time to question why.
“Wake up!” I shook Alina hard and did my best to force her into sitting up. The princess ghost overlooked the room from the mirror, but she wasn’t watching me. Her attention was still on the doorway, bright eyed with interest and eagerly awaiting the person running down the hall toward us. Dead kings and queens vanished, along with the myriad of lesser royalty. “Alina, wake up! We have to leave!”
She blinked rapidly and peered at me, confused by the smoke-filled room and my attempts to drag her off the bed. The wind moaned louder, rattling the windowpane. The fog of sleep vanished and Alina’s eyes grew big. “They’ve found me.”
“Delia! Dora!” Sam Butler ran into the room, accompanied by Officer Taylor. Other footsteps sped up the stairs toward the children on the third floor. “Come on, we’re all getting out of here. The fire department is on their way.”
I grabbed a shawl for Alina from the back of a chair and helped wrap it around her shoulders. Hunting for shoes and stockings would take too much time; time we didn’t have.
Sam waved Officer Taylor back toward the stairs. “Taylor, go help Perry and Finlay with the children upstairs. We can get downstairs on our own.”
Taylor left with no further urging. Dora and I flanked Alina, holding her up while Sam led the way downstairs. The smoke was thinner once we left the bedroom, making it easier to breathe and to see. Alina’s jaw was set, angry and defiant, but tears streaked her ash-smeared face and she trembled under my hand. I couldn’t fault her for either. She had an equal claim on both anger and fear.
The front door stood open when we reached the deserted entry hall. Fire sirens wailed in the distance, shrill notes that echoed between buildings and gradually grew closer. Voices of the assembled crowd across the street carried inside as well, both nervous adults who knew what fire meant, and excited children who hadn’t yet learned. The smell of burning wood, paper, and cloth was stronger and clung to the back of my tongue.
Sam paused at the open door, holding a hand up for us to wait. He poked his head out, whether checking to make sure no one lay in wait, or looking for some prearranged signal, I couldn’t say. A matter of seconds was all the time it took for him to be sure and motion us out the door, but those few moments stretched into an eternity.
A line of squad cars sat across the street. Sam hustled the three of us into the backseat of the lead car, leaving the door open. He leaned against the doorframe, half blocking the opening, and watched
people on the street. I exchanged looks with Dora. Both of us knew Sam was standing guard, but I wasn’t sure either Libby or Alina realized.
Libby was already perched on a small jump seat facing the rear when we arrived, arms wrapped tight around Jake and watching the front of the house. Relief at seeing us took some of the anxiety out of her eyes, but not all. “This is taking too long, Sam. I need to go back inside. They should have had the children out by now.”
Sam frowned and tipped the brim of his straw boater up, glancing at the house and back to Libby. “Give them another minute. If they don’t come out by then, I’ll go back inside.”
“You don’t need to worry, I promise.” I leaned and touched Libby’s hand, ignoring Dora’s raised eyebrow and the amused glimmer in her eye. No doubt she was hoping to watch me squirm when Libby questioned how I knew. The truth was I didn’t know the how or why either, just that I was right. “All the children are safe and accounted for. The officers will bring them out any second.”
An instant later, Officer Finlay and Patrolman Perry led eight children out the front door. Taylor was on their heels, an infant in each arm, and shepherding a girl of twelve or thirteen. The older girl carried a much younger little boy. From a distance, I might have mistaken him for Connor.
“Oh, thank God.” Libby rested her cheek on Jake’s hair and hugged him tighter. “Their mothers trusted me to take care of them. I don’t know what I’d have done if anything happened.”
“This is my fault. I put you all in danger.” Alina curled forward over her knees, words catching in her throat. “I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have come.”
“Nonsense. None of this is your fault.” Isadora put an arm around Alina and held her close, petting her hair. Her eyes met mine, full of regret and resolve both. She meant to begin pushing Alina to remember. “Fires start all the time, for any number of reasons. There’s nothing to suggest this has anything to do with you or the people looking for you. For the life of me, I don’t see why you thought it did.”
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