by Dima Zales
"Now that you mention it, how are you faring with him?"
Faring? "We get on well enough."
"I see," Celia said as she cut off a small slice of pork. I put my knife down with a clank on the plate. She looked up from her dinner. "Is something wrong, Em? You're not finished. Aren't you hungry?"
I leaned over my plate to get closer to her, even though the large dining table kept us well apart. "I know what you're doing," I said.
"I am eating my food like a lady. You would do well to follow my example if you want to secure a gentleman for yourself."
"A gentleman like George Culvert you mean?"
She shrugged and anyone who didn't know her as well as I did would have thought her dismissive of the suggestion. I was not so easy to fool.
"I am not interested in George Culvert and he's—." I was about to say not interested in me, but that was clearly incorrect. "He can do far better than the likes of me."
It was my sister's turn to lower her cutlery with a clank onto her plate. "What has he been saying about you?" She'd raised her voice, a sure sign she was deadly serious.
"Nothing. He's the perfect gentleman."
She made a miffed sound through her nose. "I'd challenge him to find another girl more interesting than you." She stabbed a pea with her fork rather more viciously than necessary. "Or more suited to a demonologist. Does he expect a Society miss to merely overlook his peculiar interests?"
"Not George." His mother, however, probably would hope such a girl existed.
This time she stabbed two peas. It would have been amusing to watch if I wasn't a little disconcerted by her matchmaking. And if my mind weren't preoccupied with Jacob's behavior. Then there was our conversation in the carriage about his murder …
"Celia, can I tell you what else happened today?"
"Something else happened?" She seemed relieved to leave the subject of George behind.
"Yes. Quite a bit actually." I told her about our visit to Blunt first. I left out the part about the pistol, the fire iron and how close I came to a fight between Blunt and Jacob. There wasn't much more to that part of the story except to say, "We're quite certain Blunt is involved in some way with the demon and the thefts. We just need to prove it."
Celia's jaw dropped further and her eyes grew wider as I spoke. Despite my omission of the grimmer facts, she appeared to comprehend the danger perfectly. "I forbid you to return to the school, Emily. Do you understand? Mr. Blunt does not seem like the sort of person we want to associate with. We certainly won't be performing a séance for him now."
I tried not to smile. "No, we won't." I didn't say anything about not intending to visit the school again though. No need to lie unless absolutely necessary. "There's more I need to tell you, Sis. I … I need some advice."
"Oh?"
"It's about Jacob."
She sighed dramatically. "Not again," she muttered.
"What does that mean?"
Lucy arrived and collected our plates. Celia waited until she'd left before she answered. "I know you see him more than you let on. I know you … like him."
"What of it?"
"He's a ghost, Em. You cannot think of him … " She lowered her voice. " … in that way."
"I think of him as a friend." I folded my hands on the tablecloth to stop them shaking. It was a lie of course, but I didn't think my sister was prepared for the truth—that I loved a spirit. I would always love him.
"I'm not a fool. I know you care for him as more than a friend." She too placed her hands on the table, steepling them as if in prayer. "I recognize a girl who thinks she's in love when I see one. And while I sympathize—."
"Sympathize!" I shot to my feet, bumping my chair and sending it tumbling backwards to the floor. "How would you know how I feel? You've never cared romantically for any man. That part of your heart shriveled up long ago, if it ever existed at all."
Her lips flattened. Her nostrils flared and tears pooled in her eyes. My anger evaporated as suddenly as it had flared at the sight of her struggling not to shed them. "I'm going to my room," I said.
"Emily!"
If she was hoping for an apology she wouldn't get one. I regretted my outburst but not what I'd said. Celia had never been in love. How could she know what I felt for Jacob? "I'm going to my room and don't wish to be disturbed," I said, rounding the table.
"But you wanted to tell me something about him! I'll listen—."
"Forget it. It doesn't matter." I passed Lucy outside the dining room. The red and green jelly she carried on a platter wobbled when she stopped to let me pass.
"Don't you want jelly, miss?"
"No thank you, Lucy."
Her face fell. "But I made it 'specially. Mrs. White says my jellies are a marvel."
It did look rather delicious. "Very well. Bring me some to my room, please." I tried to smile because she looked upset. "Thank you, Lucy."
She bobbed a curtsey that sent the jelly sliding. Luckily she righted the platter and continued into the dining room without mishap.
I ran upstairs and changed into my nightgown then flopped on the bed, suddenly too tired to sit up and read like I usually would.
I was woken by Jacob in the deepest, darkest part of the night. I began to scold him but the look on his face stopped me. By the light of the candle he carried, I could just make out the dread imprinted on every exquisite feature.
I sat bolt upright. "What is it?"
"The demon has attacked Forbes."
The name sounded familiar but I couldn't place it. "Who's Forbes?"
"My parents' butler."
The full implication of his words took a moment to sink in to my sluggish brain. But when it did, I felt ill. "Is he … dead?"
Jacob nodded once and looked away but not before I saw the shine in his eyes, reflected by the candlelight. "He'd been with us for years."
"Oh, Jacob, I'm so sorry."
He shook his head and once more turned to me. His eyes had hardened again, the moment's vulnerability completely obliterated. "I need your help, Emily."
"I'll get dressed." He looked away as I put on a black dress, gloves and a long black cloak. I didn't bother with a hat and left my hair down. Usually I tied it into a braid before bed but I'd been too tired to do anything with it.
Jacob and I didn't talk. My mind was fully awake now, my thoughts tumbling over themselves, until one became very clear. Lord and Lady Preston were about to be burgled—and we had our best chance of sending the demon back to the Otherworld.
We left quietly, me with my boots in one hand, Jacob carrying the single candle. I had him wave it at the face of the clock in the entrance hall—it was three o'clock. Before we left, I found the amulet that had originally summoned the demon and hung it around my neck. I tucked the six-pointed star inside my bodice and glanced back up the stairs. All was silent. Hopefully we'd be back by dawn—I didn't want another argument with Celia. I felt bad enough about our dinnertime squabble.
Outside I put on my boots and together we set off down Druids Way. Oddly for our street, there was no wind. Not even a puff. Without a breeze to blow it away, the fog congealed around us, its damp fingers caressing my face, tangling my hair. I hated to think what my curls must look like with all the moisture in the air.
"It's very late," I said to Jacob. My voice sounded strangely disembodied in the thick night, our footsteps equally so. The feeble glow of the street lamps barely lit up the tops of their poles let alone us far below them. It was a strange feeling walking along the empty, fog-shrouded streets with a ghost at my side. My sense for the dramatic thought it the right sort of night for the dead—ethereal, silent, lonely. "When would your family usually arrive home after an evening out?"
"They're already home. I checked. That's why I woke you."
"To warn them," I finished for him. The cold dampness seeped through my clothing to my skin, all the way to the bone.
I started to run.
Jacob easily kept up but the c
andle extinguished. He tossed it away. I would have taken several wrong turns in the soupy miasma if it hadn't been for him guiding me. We half walked, half ran and reached Belgrave Square quickly.
At first I thought the house was silent, safe, but then I heard it.
A scream. High, nerve splitting, and filled with terror.
"Adelaide!" Jacob disappeared.
Lights came on inside the house. Adelaide screamed again. Another, higher scream joined hers—Lady Preston's?
Oh God oh God oh God. I raced down the stairs and banged on the servants' door, praying someone was in the service area, hoping they heard me.
"Open—!" A hand clamped over my mouth, stifling my shout. I was wrenched back up the stairs to street level, my attacker dragging me. My heels scraped against the stone steps as I tried to stand. Then I was shoved against the wall of the house. My head hit the stucco and a jolt of pain ripped through my skull. The night turned blacker for a moment but I fought against the fog trying to cloud my brain. Someone held me upright with an iron-clawed grip, stopping me from sliding to the ground.
My vision cleared. A face loomed over me like a moon in the murky night. I didn't recognize it but it was familiar nevertheless. He had the same drooping eyes and small mouth as Maree Finch.
Tommy.
"Let me go," I said. "Please."
Finch laughed, baring two rows of crooked teeth like old headstones. "Who's gonna make me? You?" He leaned in, his wide, white face close to mine. His breath, hair and his very skin reeked of ale and cigar smoke, sweat and something worse. I retched. That only made him laugh harder. "This the girl who can see ghosts, eh?" Was he talking to me or someone else? I tried to look past him but he was too big and the night too dark. "Looks like a mad thing." He sniffed my hair. And he thought I was the mad one.
Suddenly the sound of glass shattering filled the air. Finch pulled back, glanced up. "Christ," he muttered.
I followed his gaze just in time to see Jacob and a man dressed in servant’s livery of scarlet breeches and coat falling from a high window. They were locked in battle and they fell together amidst a shower of glass, hurtling towards the footpath.
My heart leapt into my throat. I screamed. More screams echoed mine from inside the house.
It took me a moment to remember Jacob could not be harmed by such a fall. But his companion would not be so lucky.
I was wrong. The two hit the ground as one. Their impact sent a shudder along the pavement and cracked it open like an eggshell. Jacob sprang up immediately and to my surprise, so did the other man. It was as if they'd not just fallen several stories onto stone.
That’s when I noticed Finch muttering behind me. I couldn’t quite hear what he was saying even though his mouth was right near my ear, but I didn’t think he spoke English.
Before I had a chance to guess at the language, my attention was drawn back to Jacob. He and the other man hurled themselves at each other like two beasts in the ring, using their bodies as weapons. Their chests slammed, shoulders hunched and heaved. Fists smashed into flesh. Flesh that wasn’t like any flesh I knew—it didn’t smack like real skin and no bones crunched. No blood was spilled.
The servant dove at Jacob, forcing him to the ground. Together they rolled into the circle of light cast by a street lamp and that's when I saw his face.
No, not face … faces. It constantly changed, forming and reforming into people I recognized and some I didn't—Finch, Blunt, Jacob, Adelaide, Lady and Lord Preston …
It was the demon, shifting shape as it fought.
Oh God, no. How could Jacob defeat a demon? From my discussions with George, I knew they were strong and that killing them was almost impossible and required a special Otherworldly blade. I also knew that being a supernatural creature meant the demon could tear Jacob’s soul from his body. It could destroy his essence, obliterate him from this world and every other.
It could turn him into nothing.
I tried to get closer but Finch jerked me back. He was still muttering under his breath, the strange, poetic words blending together, sliding off his tongue. He was directing the creature—the demon—controlling it as it fought Jacob.
I struggled against him but his grip was too strong. He hissed in between his strange mutterings then looked over his other shoulder into the murkiness of the nearby alley. Something moved in the shadows. The sound of retreating footsteps echoed through the dense fog and I saw the flap of a coat before it was swallowed up by the night.
Finch grunted and bunched his fist into my cloak. He stopped chanting long enough to utter, "Soft-bellied toff." Did he mean me, or the person from the alley? Had someone been there or was it just a trick of light or my imagination?
Finch jerked me forward only to shove me back against the iron railing separating the pavement from the servants' stairs. Pain spiked down my spine as I almost toppled over the waist-high barrier onto the steps below. He stood in front of me now, his fist still bunching my cloak at my throat, but he was watching the fight. I followed his gaze and cringed as the demon’s fist smashed into Jacob’s mouth. On an ordinary human it would have knocked out teeth but it had little effect on Jacob.
Even so, I felt sick to my stomach. My heart had stopped beating the moment I saw him falling from the window and it felt like it had not restarted. If his soul was taken tonight by the demon, I didn’t think it would ever beat again.
The demon punched Jacob once more and he reeled back from the force. Steadying himself, he ran at the creature as if he was still fresh and his fist connected with the demon’s chin. How long could this go on? Would either of them tire?
I had to do something. Had to. Before the demon destroyed Jacob.
The amulet! With all the action, I’d almost forgotten about it. But Finch’s big paw at my throat cut off access. I tried to pull away but my movement drew his attention and his fist tightened in my cloak. He snarled, baring teeth, and his mouth twisted into a gruesome smile.
With his focus on me and not the fight, the demon slowed, allowing Jacob to get in three quick, hard punches on the demon’s chin, sending it reeling back into the shadows. He glanced at me for the first time since he'd fallen from the window. His eyes widened. His features seemed to collapse in on themselves.
"Emily!" His shout split the air.
Finch spun round and spoke in the strange language again. The demon flew out of the shadows and shoved Jacob back into the lamp post. The iron pole bent from the force.
"Jacob!" I struggled against Finch but it was useless. I was so weak by comparison, so useless. I couldn’t get to the amulet. Couldn’t get away. Couldn’t do anything.
"Emily?" It was Adelaide. She and her father had emerged from the house, wrapped in thick coats with fur collars. Lord Preston's attention focused on the demon and what he thought of that I couldn't make out in the darkness. It must seem terribly peculiar, the creature with its changing faces fighting an invisible foe.
Two footmen joined them on the landing, pistols cocked. Lord Preston also held a long sword, its blade gleaming even in the dull light cast by the lamp Adelaide held. She seemed not to know where to look, first at me, then at the demon, then at her father.
One of the servants aimed his pistol at the demon.
"That won't do anything," I said.
"Shut up!" Finch slapped me across the face. It stung. I bit down against the pain and shook off the dizziness.
"Father, do something!" shouted Adelaide.
Lord Preston turned to me, his face like thunder. But there was a hint of confusion there too. He said nothing, gave no orders, and I decided he must be attempting to make sense of what he saw or he'd have taken charge already. His fingers flexed around the sword hilt. It was the sort of weapon found on library walls or behind glass cabinets, all gold and shiny metal with a tassel hanging from the hilt. It had probably never been used.
"Call the police!" I shouted and kicked out at Finch's shins.
He slapped me again. My head
buzzed like a hive full of angry bees. I blinked away tears and battled to stay upright as Finch moved. Suddenly he was behind me, his arm around my waist. Something cold and sharp bit into my throat.
A knife.
"Emily!" Adelaide screamed again.
Onlookers emerged up and down the street, their lamps and candles glowing like faint stars. In the distance I heard a constable's whistle but it was far away. Too far.
"Unhand her!" Lord Preston bellowed. Thank God he'd regained his sense of command although I doubted it would do any good.
Finch certainly didn't cower. The knife pierced my skin. His breath came hot and moist in my ear as he chanted. I could feel his heart beating at my back, as rapid and erratic as my own. But his hand didn't shake. His life depended on keeping control of the weapon.
Off to our right, everyone either watched the strange spectacle of the demon or had their gazes on me. Adelaide, unaware that her brother's ghost was barely keeping a shape-shifting demon at bay, grew frantic. "Father! He's going to hurt her!"
"Stay," Finch commanded them in between muttering the lyrical chant.
The servants waited for their master to give an order. But any order to attack Finch would only bring about my death.
I closed my eyes.
An almighty roar from Jacob had me opening them again, just in time to see him throw himself at the demon. They toppled together. Finch gave a frustrated grunt and, miraculously, his grip on my coat loosened. It was enough. Just. I delved down inside my cloak and pulled the amulet up from beneath my gown.
I began the curse that Celia had taught me to send the demon back.
"Bitch!" Finch snarled. He snatched the amulet out of my hand, ripping the leather strip from my neck. "What d'you think you're doin', eh?"
The whack of the demon’s head hitting the gutter forced us both to turn back to the fight. The creature, still in human form but with shadows swirling where there should have been a face, lay on the ground. It groaned and didn't get up. Jacob had used Finch's break in concentration when he took the amulet to deliver a knockout blow.