Libby might not believe in spirits and ghosts, in Dora’s abilities or mine, but she’d seen the riot and the aftermath. When Jordan took her aside and flatly told her it was too dangerous to leave, and why, she hadn’t argued for long. I was enormously grateful she hadn’t made a bigger scene.
Plum-colored shadows bruised the skin under Dora’s eyes. She sat upright in the straight-backed chair at the head of table, but that didn’t erase the image of her wilting as I watched. We’d spent most of the last two hours reinforcing the barriers around her house, adding layers to protections that had grown thicker with each passing year. I’d done all I could to help, but by necessity, the majority of the effort came from Dora. I’d rarely seen her so exhausted. That she was still on her feet was nothing short of remarkable.
She pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closed. “Chief Michael’s meeting with Gabe couldn’t have come at a worse time. The temptation to send a silence hex his way is almost overwhelming. Randy and Gabe should have been here more than an hour ago. I’m beginning to worry that something’s happened.”
“Something more you mean. I don’t believe that’s possible.” Heavy damask drapes covered her workroom windows. The dim yellow light of two small electric lamps provided enough light to see, but shadows filled the corners and veiled the ceiling. Dora found the near darkness restful, soothing. Normally I’d agree, but today the lack of light grated on my nerves. “Gabe and Randy will be here soon. I’m confident Jack will come as well. He won’t want to miss the fun.”
That made her smile. “Sadie would be horrified to hear you say that, even if it is true.”
“Then we shan’t tell her.” The watcher’s eyes still filled my head. She kept a constant vigil, ever alert, and added to the restless anticipation I couldn’t shake. “Do you have any of that sherry left?”
Dora stared. “Delia Ann Ryan, I don’t think you’ve ever asked me for a drink before. I’m starting to think I’m a bad influence.”
“You’ve always been a bad influence. I adore you anyway.” I stood and went to the doorway, peering down the hallway in hopes of seeing Gabe. He wasn’t there, but I’d known that. The gun in my pocket bumped my leg as I turned around, a sober reminder of my promise. “But perhaps I should skip the sherry for now. I’ll reconsider once Gabe arrives.”
“More tea, then.” Dora braced against the edge of the table and stood. “Tea and a bite to eat will do us both a great deal of good.”
She slipped her arm through mine for the walk to the kitchen at the other end of the house. We found Jordan at the bottom of the staircase, frowning up at the second-floor landing.
Isadora’s fingers tightened on my arm. “Is something wrong?”
“Not a thing.” He looked slightly embarrassed. “I know this man can’t get inside on his own, but do you mind if I take a look around upstairs? I’d feel more sure of my ground and a little less jumpy. Old cop habits die hard.”
Her smile was warm and bright, if a bit frayed around the edges. “I don’t mind at all. Tea will be ready when you come back down.”
We waited until Jordan reached the second floor before going into the kitchen. Dora hunted in the icebox for lemon wedges and rounds of cheese while I filled the kettle. Slices of bread, the last few apples, and a plate of cookies went on the big tray as well.
The fuzzy images of three princesses gazed back at me from inside empty teacups and the back of a silver teaspoon. I turned to find their anxious faces watching from each glass cupboard door, the sides of water tumblers, and serving dishes. Everywhere I looked, Alina’s sisters gazed back, voiceless and desperate to speak.
They were frightened. The front door chimes rang and the dragon growled. “Dora—”
Libby’s cheery voice carried from the entryway as she greeted Sam and told him to come in. Isadora’s head came up abruptly and she dropped the cheese knife, grimacing in pain and grabbing the table edge to keep from falling. “Oh dear God, she invited him in … no.”
I didn’t wait. I pulled the gun from my pocket and ran.
Hurtling headlong into Libby outside the kitchen knocked the wind out of me and sent the gun tumbling out of my hand. She retrieved the pistol, staring openmouthed. “Dee, what are you doing?”
“That man—that’s not Sam. Give me the gun!” I couldn’t think, couldn’t see round the dragon’s angry red eyes. She roared in rage and terror, and I fought not to go to my knees. “Please, Libby. It’s not him. That’s not Sam!”
“You’ve lost your mind.” She backed away as I lunged for the gun, her expression growing more horrified. “No, I’m not letting you go in there with this. Jordan! Jordan!”
“Yes, call Jordan.” I steadied myself against the wall and took a step. “Tell him to hurry.”
Libby shrank back, shaking and obviously terrified, and didn’t try to stop me from continuing down the hallway. This wasn’t at all like the fearless woman I’d come to know. I wondered what Josef had done to her, or if he’d given her a vision of how death would find her.
The man on the settee was a perfect double for Sam, and to anyone watching, the way he cupped Alina’s face appeared tender and loving. Libby wouldn’t have questioned allowing him inside, but I saw through his illusions. Sam’s face stuttered in and out of view, replaced by a bearded older man with dark hair and clouded eyes.
Remembering my dreams, how Josef had held her face just that way and the feel of bones shifting, made my skin crawl. Alina whimpered the same way now, wide eyed with horror, and terrified tears slid down her face. She couldn’t escape, couldn’t move as long as he held her.
An army of ghosts filled the sitting room, arrayed in rows that stretched from the door and beyond the far wall. Most were Josef’s victims, angry-eyed phantoms he refused to release. He’d bound these men and women as they died, forcing them into his service. They glared at him and didn’t try to hide their hatred.
A shrinking circle of spirits surrounded Alina, faceless memories trying to shield her and hold back the tide of haunts Josef called. They faded as I watched, growing distant. Soon they’d vanish completely and leave Alina unprotected.
Josef didn’t so much as glance my way. The wall of ghosts between us was meant to keep me out, to shut Dora off from Alina. I pushed into the room anyway, whispering banishing charms and commands for restless spirits to go, to move on and seek their rest.
A few gave way, but most reached out to brush cold fingers across my face, to grasp an arm or touch my shoulder. I relived each tortured soul’s last moment and each painful death delivered by Josef’s hands. The dragon growled with each ghostly touch that drove the chill deeper, but she couldn’t stop the dead or send them away. I clenched my chattering teeth and held on.
One faded spirit, an old man dressed as a monk, stepped in front of me, blocking my path. I plowed through him, shivering with cold and the agony of his last moments. When I could see again, I was within arm’s reach of Josef.
A slender pewter vase sat on a half table at the end of the settee. I grabbed the vase round the top and swung at Josef, landing a solid blow on the back of his head. He snarled and caught the vase with one hand, twisting it away from me, and wrapped his other hand around my throat. Alina slumped in the corner of the settee, limp and unable to move.
“Are you that eager to die, little witch?” He chanted in a mix of Russian and Latin, a singsong rhythm that drew his ghosts in closer. Josef’s voice rasped over my skin, tiny thorns of pain hidden in each word. The mask of Sam’s face fell away completely and his grip on my throat tightened. Darkness reached for me, clouding my vision until all I saw was Josef’s face. I clawed at his hands and face, desperate to get air, frantically trying to break free.
Death didn’t frighten me. Having my spirit bound to him to use as he wished utterly terrified me. I raked my nails across his face, drawing blood. He smiled.
The dragon roared, deafening me. Josef stopped chanting, eyes full of shock and face slack with surprise. I didn�
��t hear the second shot, but blood splattered the front of my dress and Josef staggered back, going to his knees. He touched his side and lifted his hand, staring at the blood on his fingers before pitching onto his face.
Dora moved farther into the room, a pistol gripped in both hands and her full attention on Josef. She glanced at me. “Are you all right?”
Josef groaned, his hand reaching for my ankle. His phantoms crowded closer and I edged away, fighting the need to cry, to scrub his blood from my clothes, my hands and face. I cleared my throat several times, trying to speak, but managed only a hoarse croak and a nod.
“Dee, take Alina out of here.” Dora spoke firmly, but her hands shook. “Jordan’s in the hallway near the kitchen. Leave Alina with him and come back. I need your help.”
We stumbled from the room, Alina and I holding each other up in equal measure. I don’t know what Dora told him, but Jordan didn’t budge from his post in front of the kitchen door until the last second. He took Alina from me, wrapping an arm around her shoulders protectively.
“Sweet Jesus, Delia.” He took out his handkerchief and wiped my cheek. It came away splotched with crimson. “Say something. Tell me you’re all right.”
I cleared my throat again and swallowed, wincing. “No, I’m not. Where’s Libby?”
“She’s in the kitchen.” Jordan frowned. “Dora made me promise to keep her there and to keep Libby away from Alina.”
I’d been right about Josef doing something to her. Dora had sensed it too. “Do what she said, Jordan. There’s a reason to keep Libby confined for the time being. I have to go back. Dora needs me.”
Dora stood where I’d left her, the gun pointed at Josef. He lay quiet and didn’t move, but phantoms still packed the room. The ghosts moved aimlessly, restlessly. They wouldn’t leave until he was truly dead. I wasn’t sure they could leave. Not unless Josef sent them away.
“Tell me what to do, Dora.” I screwed up my courage and squared my shoulders. “I know we can’t let him walk out of here.”
Her grim smile made it easy to see how very tired she was. “We don’t need to go quite so far as murder, Delia. Josef is already dead, and I suspect he has been for some time. Necromancers really are foul creatures. The worst of them siphon off the death energy of their victims to prolong and restore their own lives. They become like morphine addicts, craving more and more death.”
Josef moaned and his fingers twitched. I stared. “He’s dead?”
“Very. He was already dead when Aleksei Nureyev shot him.” She gestured toward the ghosts crowded around Josef. “Look closely, Dee. If I can see the bond that holds these ghosts in thrall, it should be very clear to you. That bond is what enables Josef to maintain the illusion of life.”
The bonds were clear, now that I knew to look. Braided strands of yellow, silver, red, and green—captured pieces of aura—tied each phantom to Josef. They all pulsed in the same rhythm, beating in time with his heart. “Can we sever those bonds?”
“Setting the ghost free is supposed to break the connection.” She shrugged and gave me a rueful glance. “It’s a lot like sending on someone who doesn’t know they’re dead yet. I’ve read about this, but I lack practical experience.”
I’d sent on thousands of confused haunts, and banished twice that many stubborn spirits who refused to leave the world of the living. And from the baleful looks these phantoms gave Josef, they’d be grateful to leave. He held them here, nothing else.
I shut my eyes and looked inward, searching for the best way to start. The dragon’s night-dark eyes greeted me, and I knew what to do. Fear set my heart to racing, but being afraid didn’t mean I wouldn’t try. That the watcher made it appear so simple, so easy, scared me most of all. Dealing with the spirit realm was seldom simple.
“Hear me, spirits, and know I speak truth. Your tie to life is broken. No man can bind your spirit to his will, no man use the essence of who you were to cheat death.” I couldn’t raise my voice above a whisper, but whispers worked just as well. The phantoms turned as one, watching me and listening. “I free you to seek rest and peace, I free you to find a place beyond this living world, I free you from the bonds that keep you here. No man can force you to his bidding or bend you to his will. Three times I’ve said the words, three times I’ve cut the bond, three times I’ve granted peace and rest. You have your freedom. Go.”
For a moment, I thought I’d failed. But slowly, one by one, the pulsing of the bonds slowed and stopped, the colors fading. Phantoms crumbled to dust and blew away on a wind I couldn’t feel, or rose in misty tendrils to vanish through the ceiling. They followed each other faster and faster, until the room was empty of ghosts.
Blood still stained Dora’s carpet, but all that remained of Josef was a pile of yellowed bone wrapped in rotting fabric.
Dora carefully set the pistol on a side table and put her arm around me. “Well done, Dee. We’ll need to burn the bones and salt the earth where we bury the ashes. Far from the city would be best, but we’ll find a spot nearby if forced to it.”
The front door slammed open, followed by Randy’s frantic shouts. “Dora! Dora, where are you?”
“We’re in here! Everything’s all right!” Tears slid down Dora’s face. She squeezed my shoulders and went to meet him. “Everything’s all right.”
* * *
The bruises on my throat healed slowly, and my ability to speak in a normal voice took nearly as long to recover. I saw Gabe watching me when he thought I didn’t know, that horrible knowledge of how close he’d come to losing me sitting stark and raw in his eyes. That I’d looked at him the same way after the riot didn’t make it easier to bear for either of us. If we held each other a little tighter, that was to be expected.
Dora sent a series of letters to Europe and telegrams to New York with the truth about the murders of the tsar and his family. People she trusted were asked to spread tales of what had happened. Rumors followed quickly, stories of sightings of his daughters alive and well, and reports of the tsar living quietly in exile.
None of the stories were true and grew wilder with time, but they got people talking about Lenin and his revolution, and chasing after false trails. That was exactly what Isadora wanted.
Sam was alive and well, and he did his part to throw the hounds off the scent. I didn’t ask how he managed, but a photograph and a story about the tsar’s daughter Maria being killed in the San Francisco riot spread across the country. The story appeared in all the biggest papers, from Los Angeles to New York and points between. It was quite the sensation and lasted for several weeks. That story spread to Europe as well and brought more scrutiny to the Bolsheviks.
Alina—Maria—was as safe as we could make her. With Josef’s death, all her memories had returned, as well as all the sorrow. She had no interest in being a rallying point for the royalists. With most of the world believing she was dead, she had a chance for a quiet life with Sam.
We’d done our best for Connor over the last few weeks. There was no cure, no guarantee that spirits wouldn’t continue to frighten him, but a protection spell Dora obtained from an old friend kept the ghosts away when he left the house. He was a happier, brighter little boy as a result. That made Sadie and Jack happier as well.
Dora and I worried about him less, and my fears of madness and possession receded into the background. Once he learned to talk and could understand, we’d start teaching Connor ways to protect himself. He wouldn’t be left to fend for himself.
Jordan Lynch put off his trip back to Chicago until everything had settled. He filled his time by making small repairs around Katie Allen’s boardinghouse and listening to her stories. I couldn’t say which of them got the most enjoyment out of their time together. Jordan might not have gone back at all, but Gabe couldn’t get the chief of police to hire a Negro. As it was, Jordan wanted to stay long enough to see Sam and Maria married. He got his wish.
Gabe and I filled our parlor with flowers on a late June night, roses and lilies,
carnations and the first sweet peas from my garden. Candlelight lit the room, adding soft shadows. Food and a wedding cake waited in the dining room, all paid for by Dora.
Libby had been invited, but she sent a note saying she had other obligations and couldn’t come. It was all very polite and proper, and a lie from beginning to end. She was still deeply smitten with Sam. Watching Maria marry him was more than Libby Mills could bear.
Annie came with Jack and Sadie and the children, leaning heavily on Jack’s arm and looking more frail than even the day before. How confused she’d grown since her encounter with Josef reminded me of Esther Larkin’s last days, a slow fading away that ended in death. I visited daily and spent as much time with Annie as I could. Sadie and I both knew we wouldn’t have her for long.
Dora had bought Maria a proper dress and a going-away suit, and fussed with arranging flowers in Maria’s hair as much as any mother of the bride. Maria looked radiant and the picture of happiness as she came into the parlor on Gabe’s arm. Sam’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw her. I knew in that strange way I could never describe that they’d have a long, happy life together.
Sadie and I stood on either side of Annie’s chair, holding her hands, and watched the happy couple take their vows. A cheer went up and we all clapped when Sam and Maria shared a kiss. If a few tears were shed by Isadora Bobet, we all pretended not to see.
Three princess ghosts watched their sister marry as well, roses that would never wither in their cheeks and bright eyes brimming with happiness. I’d thought the memory ghosts would fade away, but they still followed Maria everywhere. That was just as well. Knowing someone who loved her still watched over Maria gave me comfort.
The dragon’s eyes opened, plunging me into night-dark depths and wrapping me in amusement. Maria’s guardian would always be there for her, for her children and grandchildren. She released me slowly this time, affectionately, and left behind a promise. Maria and Sam would never truly be alone.
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