[Anthology] The Paranormal 13- now With a Bonus 14th Novel!

by Dima Zales

  Finch growled low in his throat then began his chants again in earnest. The demon groaned but failed to rise. Finch swore and tried again. Still nothing.

  Jacob glanced at me. He neither breathed hard nor sweated like a live person would after a fight but his hair was disheveled and his shirt torn. He stood there, fists pumping at his sides, and watched me with an expression I couldn't make out in the dimness.

  Just watched.

  "Jacob?" He could be at my side in seconds. With invisibility on his side, he could surprise Finch and snatch the knife away.

  But he did not.

  He didn't move in my direction at all. He just looked at me. And then he let out a low, primal wail like he was in pain. But he could not feel physical pain so—.

  The demon stood up.

  "Jacob, look out!"

  He swung round and engaged the demon again. They tumbled together in the smudged edge of the lamp's light, limbs tangled, the smack of fists and the grunts of exertion the only sounds.

  Behind me, Finch chuckled. "Your ghost lover wants you to join 'im, eh?" he said between chants.

  I stared straight ahead, not quite at Jacob, not at anything. My heart had skidded to a stop in my chest. I felt hollow, empty.

  Alone.

  The notion that Finch might be right … that Jacob had not tried to save me … it was too much to take in. I couldn't even cry even though I was full of tears.

  "You better come wiv me," Finch muttered. His arm squeezed my waist so hard I thought he'd snap me in two.

  I gasped and scrabbled at his hands, tried to dig in my heels and plant myself on the spot.

  But he was too strong. My attempts didn't even make him pause.

  On the main landing, Adelaide also gasped but smothered most of it with a hand over her mouth.

  Before I could turn and follow her wide-eyed gaze, a loud whump echoed through the night. Finch's grip slackened, he dropped the knife then slipped to the ground with as much grace as a rag doll. Behind him stood Lady Preston, a brass candelabra in her hand and angry triumph on her face.

  I kicked the knife away and stepped out of Finch's reach. A footmen descended on him and stood guard. It all happened so fast. Adelaide ran down the stairs and wrapped her arm around my shoulders. Her mother calmly handed the candelabra to a maid and went to her husband. He folded her against his chest and rested his chin on her head, the sword loose at his side. His gaze returned to where Jacob and the demon fought.

  But the demon suddenly spun round and fled. With a roar of frustration, Jacob chased it. I went to follow but Adelaide held me back.

  "No," she said. "It's much too dangerous."

  Behind me, the footman gave a short grunt. I spun round, just in time to see him stumbling backwards and Finch fleeing in the opposite direction to the demon and Jacob. The thick fog enveloped him before I could react with anything more than a gasp.

  "Fool!" Lord Preston shouted at the hapless footman.

  The servant rubbed his knee where Finch must have kicked him and shrugged an apology to me. I tried to reassure him but it was impossible to feel anything but a terrible fear pressing down on my chest.

  The pressure eased slightly when Jacob returned. "Gone," he said. "It was too fast." He frowned. "Where's Finch?"

  "Also gone," I said. "And he has the amulet."

  Jacob paused then crouched down, the fingers of one hand on the pavement to balance himself. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. As I watched, his shirt mended itself as did the small cuts on his lip and cheek. The skin simply re-covered them. There had been no blood of course and the skin was neither new nor pink. If his hair hadn't remained messy there would have been no evidence of the fight at all.

  "Are you all right?" I asked.

  "Don't come near me." He rubbed a hand through his hair and studied the ground near his feet. "Damn it!" He slammed his fist onto the pavement and a guttural growl tore from his throat. It was full of desperation, anger, hurt and so many more emotions I couldn't identify. It ripped through the blanket of night, shot through my heart.

  I pulled away from Adelaide and went to him but he got to his feet and moved to the edge of the light where I couldn't quite make out his features. "Don't," he said again. His voice sounded raw, not his own.

  Adelaide came up beside me and held up her lamp. "My brother … he's here?"

  I nodded. I couldn't speak. I wanted to go to Jacob, wanted to hold him. But he didn't want me near.

  "Where?" Lady Preston joined her daughter and together they looked at the bent lamp post as if Jacob's ghost was there. "Where's my son?"

  I waved in his direction.

  "Can we speak to him?"

  "I don't want to talk," Jacob said. He moved even further into the shadows so that only his silhouette was visible to me.

  "Another time," I said through a tight, full throat.

  Lady Preston's face crumpled, tears filled her eyes. Adelaide hugged her.

  "He and I have Otherworld business to finish," I said quickly. "We'll return another day." It was the best I could manage when my thoughts were so jumbled together I could barely think let alone speak.

  "Leave us!" It was Lord Preston, stomping down the stairs. As he spoke, two constables rushed up and took in the scene, truncheons poised to strike. "Move her on," he said, pointing at me. "She's not wanted here."

  "But Father, she—."

  "She's not wanted!" His bellow would have been heard up and down the street, despite the dense fog deadening it. The lights from the neighbors' lamps disappeared back inside their homes. I could only imagine what they must think of the events of this night and how it would be recounted in the clubs and coffee houses tomorrow. How would they explain what they'd seen? How much could they see? Certainly not the demon's changing faces.

  "Jacob is here," Lady Preston said in a quiet voice, so steady compared to the first time we met but still small and thin like a child's. "He's busy now but he'll return soon."

  Lord Preston took his wife's hand, looped it through his arm and patted it. "Go inside, my dear. Both of you. I'll sort this out and join you soon."

  Adelaide didn't move as the constables approached me. "No, Father," she said, tossing her long braid over her shoulder. "You'll not treat her like a criminal. She's done nothing wrong."

  "She can see Jacob," Lady Preston said, still staring off in the direction of her son. Jacob remained in the darkness but I could feel his presence as strongly as ever. It was troubled. And so very angry.

  "It's all right," I said to Adelaide. "We have to go anyway."

  "We." Lord Preston snorted. "You're very good, Miss Chambers. A genius at theatre."

  "Theatre!" Adelaide cried, fists clenched at her sides. "Father—."

  "Silence! Inside, both of you."

  Lady Preston meekly climbed the stairs but kept looking over her shoulder into the shadows. Adelaide sighed and touched my arm. I nodded at her to go. It wasn't her battle and I didn't want her to be punished on my account.

  "This is not theatre, Lord Preston," I said when they were gone. It was difficult to inject any real enthusiasm into the words. I just wanted to leave, with Jacob.

  "You made all this up," the viscount said, nodding at the bent lamp post. "You're probably in league with that boy, the one who held the knife to you. And Forbes."

  "Your butler? Of course not. He was a victim—."

  "I saw his face!" he shouted. Even in the poor light I knew his cheeks were turning a mottled red. "There." He nodded at the spot where Jacob and the demon had fought. "Doing just as good a job of pretending as both of you degenerates. I don't know why he'd want to hurt my family like this after so many years of good service … "

  "Forbes is dead," I spat as I shook off the constable who reached for me. I'd had enough. Enough of being doubted, enough of being ridiculed, enough of being treated differently to everyone else. "A demon killed him and took on his form. That's how it got into your house. Didn't you see it just now?
It was fighting your son's ghost. Jacob saved us by keeping it occupied. All of us."

  "Forget it!" Jacob hurtled out of the shadows and snatched at my hand. Despite all his exertion, it was still cool. It always would be. "You're wasting your breath speaking to him."

  "Miss," one of the constables said. "Don't make this hard for yourself, miss."

  Lord Preston turned to go. I wasn't prepared to give up so easily but I had to back away from the constables. "Didn't you see its face change? You must have."

  "I saw no such thing," Lord Preston said, his voice dripping with disdain. "It was much too dark to make out anything clearly. You are a liar, Miss Chambers, and a thief and perhaps worse. If I were you I'd leave before the police arrest you. I think we can safely assume a judge would have you committed to a mad asylum whether you were found guilty of these crimes or not, don't you?"

  I should have stopped. I should have chalked Lord Preston up as a disbeliever and left it at that. But I couldn't. I was angry now too and there was nowhere for that anger to go except out. One of the constables grabbed my arm but I barely noticed. Jacob still held my other hand, strong and reassuring. "Finch is not my accomplice! He tried to kill me. He's been controlling the demon all along."

  As had someone else. The person who'd left during the fight. My anger reduced to a simmer as quickly as it had boiled over. I jerked myself free of the constable's grip. "I'm going," I assured him then turned to Jacob. "We have to go to the school. I think Blunt was here."

  The constable looked at me as if he thought I really should be in an insane asylum. I ignored him. I didn't have time to worry about what he thought of me.

  "In a moment," Jacob said. He let go of my hand and picked up Finch's knife. He stepped up behind his father then tapped him on the shoulder with the blade. Lord Preston turned around, gasped then glared at me as if I'd somehow caused the knife to be there even though I wasn't close enough. For one heart-pounding moment I thought Jacob would stab him, but he simply drew the point down his father's cheek. Lord Preston yelped and jerked away. He snarled at me—me!—and smoothed down his moustache with his thumb and finger.

  Jacob sidled up close to his father and blew in his ear. Lord Preston glanced around. "Next time you call her names I won't hold back," Jacob whispered barely loud enough for me to hear. Despite the quietness of his voice, the malice in it was unmistakable. I swallowed.

  For the first time since we'd met, I believed what Jacob had been telling me all along. He was dangerous.

  14

  The policemen took me as far as the corner of Belgrave Square and warned me not to return to Lord Preston's house or they'd arrest me. I thanked them and followed Jacob into the night.

  "We need to go now, before Blunt escapes," he said.

  Perhaps he already had.

  But it would take time to get to the school, time we couldn't afford to waste. "You go ahead," I said, pulling my cloak tighter at my throat. It brought back the memory of when Finch had clasped it, right before he'd stolen the amulet. Without it, we had no way of sending the demon back to the Otherworld. "Stop Blunt leaving if necessary. I'll catch up."

  Jacob shook his head. He'd calmed down considerably since the confrontation with his father. He could look at me now at least, although his gaze didn't quite meet mine. "You're not walking alone at night."

  "There's no other way." I gave him a reassuring smile. I wasn't angry with him. Concerned, yes because I could sense something was very wrong, but not angry.

  He lifted a hand to my face and brushed his knuckles down my cheek in a gesture that sent my heart flipping in my chest and filled my eyes with tears once more. He gave me the saddest smile I'd ever seen and whispered my name, as if speaking it aloud would hurt.

  It was amazing the sound of my heart cracking didn't fill the night.

  "Jacob," I murmured. There was so much to say but I didn't know where to start or how.

  He touched a finger to my lips. "Shhh, my sweet." His finger dipped down to my chin and he kissed me, a fleeting, feathery kiss that was over too soon. But despite the tenderness, tension continued to ripple through him. He was still fuming.

  Was he furious at himself for hesitating?

  I hadn't a clue. I blinked back the tears but one escaped anyway. He kissed it away, his mouth so soft I wanted to sink into it. He licked his lips, tasting my tear.

  "Jacob," I tried again.

  "Don't," he said, voice shuddering. He stepped back, all business again. I tried to be the same, to shut down my feelings, but it wasn't easy.

  "I have another idea," he said. "Let's wake up George and ask to borrow his carriage. He won't want to miss the fun anyway."

  I wasn't so sure about that but I smiled an agreement. It was a surface smile. Inside me everything ached.

  Hand in hand we ran the short distance to Wilton Crescent. "I'll go in and wake him," Jacob said when we reached number fifty-two.

  "But how will he know it's you and that you want him to come with us?"

  "There should be pen and ink somewhere in the house." He was gone before I could say anything else.

  Hardly five minutes passed before a sleepy footman holding a candelabra opened the front door, his green jacket unbuttoned, his hair unpowdered. "Mr. Culvert wishes you to wait inside, Miss Chambers." He yawned and waved me through to the drawing room with the candelabra.

  I wasn't surprised to see Jacob already there. We didn't speak as the footman lit the candles on the mantelpiece then bowed out of the room, yawning.

  "Culvert snores," Jacob said when we were alone.

  "What did he say when you woke him?"

  "Well, he didn't scream."

  "You thought he might?"

  "I thought it likely." He gave me his devilishly crooked smile but there was no humor in it. Sadness still invaded everything—his words, his face, even the way he stood with his shoulders slightly stooped. He stared into the cold ashes of the fireplace and said nothing further.

  I sat and waited in the awkward silence, trying to decide if I wanted to broach the subject of his hesitation in Belgrave Square. George saved me when he appeared, tugging on his crisp white cuffs. He was fully dressed right down to a black overcoat but his hair was in desperate need of taming. It stuck out on one side and was entirely flat on the other.

  "My coach and driver will be around shortly," he said, holding out his hands to me. I clasped them and he squeezed gently. "Are you all right, Emily?"

  Jacob frowned at our linked hands. I let go. "Well enough," I said. "Sorry to wake you, George, but we do so need your carriage."

  "Of course. Think nothing of it. Glad I can be of service. Is Beaufort still here?"

  I nodded and waved towards the fireplace where Jacob stood watching us beneath his lowered lids, an unreadable expression on his icy face.

  "I'll go on ahead," he said, coming towards me. "I'll unlock the school's front door for you." The ice seemed to melt before my eyes, the tension slip away from his mouth, his brow. The pale candlelight barely illuminated the blue of his eyes but I didn't need to see their color to recognize the worry in them as they searched my face. He lifted a hand to my cloak's collar and straightened it. His thumb brushed along the underside of my jaw. "Will you be all right?"

  I nodded. I couldn't speak. I just wanted to hold him, kiss him, but I was no longer entirely sure if that's what he wanted. He might be behaving tenderly towards me now, but what about later? I desperately wanted to ask him what he was thinking, and why he'd hesitated back at his parents' house, but I couldn't, not with George around.

  Besides, I had a feeling I wouldn't like the answer.

  He disappeared and I watched the space where he'd been for a long time until George's polite cough drew my attention.

  He held out his arm. "Shall we wait outside?"

  During the carriage ride to Clerkenwell, I told George everything that had transpired that night. From the light cast by the lamps mounted outside the windows I could just see the
grave set of his face and the frown settling above his spectacles.

  "So now we must speak to Blunt to find out once and for all how he is involved," I said. "And to find out where Finch lives."

  He reached under the seat and removed a box. I recognized it as the one he'd brought with him the last time we visited Blunt. The one with the pistol inside.

  We arrived at the school shortly after that. George took one of the carriage lamps and left the other for the driver. Together we tried the front door. It was unlocked, as Jacob had promised. I hesitated and glanced at George. He looked pale in the gaslight, a trickle of sweat trailing down his temple despite the coolness of the air. "I think it best if Jacob deals with Blunt first," I said. "If his methods fail then you should use that." We both looked down at the pistol. He tucked it beneath his cloak and nodded. A slight color returned to his cheeks. Whatever he was, he was not a coward. Fear did not make someone cowardly; allowing that fear to stop them taking appropriate action, did.

  He followed me into the school, down the corridor, towards a sliver of light peeping out from underneath the door next to Blunt's office. Noises came from the other side—wood splintering, glass shattering, objects landing with thuds. Blunt's voice over them all, pleading.

  "Stop! Please, stop. Don't hurt me. Please."

  Jacob had started without us.

  I ran to the door but George overtook me. "Wait," I hissed. "Wait out here." He looked like he wanted to disagree. "Just give me a moment," I said. "I'll try to calm Jacob first. You wait here to—."

  "But Emily—."

  "I'll be fine, George. Jacob will protect me and we need you as our surprise. If Blunt doesn't confess then you can come in and use whatever means at your disposal. I couldn't bear it if that pistol went off by accident."

  I didn't wait for his answer but entered the room and was surprised to see it wasn't another office but a bedroom. Two candles flickering on the mantelpiece provided a little light, illuminating a mess. Someone sat in the big bed, the covers pulled over their head. Blunt. Jacob stood near the window, the broken leg of a stool in his hand. The rest of the stool lay on the floor in pieces along with torn sheets, clumps of wool from a pillow, shards of a mirror and various other oddments.