by Dima Zales
He shook his head. "There must be another way."
Jacob shouted again. Then he became silent. His mouth fell open in an empty scream and even in the darkness I could see him writhing on the ground, the demon's hand buried inside his chest. Everything around me went still. My mind cleared. I felt like I was floating in a bubble, not quite part of the world anymore but still able to see it, feel it. I had the most startling, amazing clarity all of a sudden.
I knew what I had to do.
I grabbed the pistol, aimed and fired. Finch fell down. Dead.
"Jesus," George muttered. He crossed himself.
The demon sat back on its haunches and looked around, its hand still buried in Jacob's chest. Jacob kicked out, toppling the demon. He got to his feet but his shoulders sagged. He rubbed his chest.
"The amulet," he rasped as the demon righted itself. "Hurry."
I ran to Finch's body and rummaged through his pockets, trying to concentrate on my task and not look at the blood pooling around him. I pulled out a few coins but nothing else. I rolled the body over and tucked my hand inside his shirt. My fingers touched sticky, warm blood and the cool metal of the amulet. The brass felt heavy and solid, reassuring.
"Anytime soon," Jacob said then grunted as the demon slammed its fist into his stomach. He doubled over, clutching his middle.
I pulled the amulet out but didn't remove it from Finch's neck. There was no time. I began to chant the curse Celia had taught me. As if I'd struck it, the demon stopped fighting. A strangled growl bubbled up from its throat. Then it ran towards me.
I paused.
"Don't stop!" Jacob shouted.
The demon kept running, straight at me. I could just make out the dark swirls of shadow where it should have had a face. It still wore the servant's livery but the clothes were ripped, the torn fabric flapping uselessly. I kept chanting.
The demon ran right past me and I groaned in frustration. If it got away the curse wouldn't work. It needed to be close. How close, I didn't know.
Jacob swore and began to run but he was either in pain or exhausted and couldn't catch it.
The demon passed George and I just hoped he would shout a warning to his driver to get out of the beast's way. He didn't. He dove at the creature and together they tumbled to the ground. George grunted a loud oomph as his shoulder connected with the stones.
I uttered the rest of the curse and prayed I had it right, prayed the demon was near enough for it to be effective.
A strong breeze whipped at my skirts and monetarily separated the thin curtain of fog only for it to re-settle around us when the wind died. George sat up, blinked. His glasses had come off and his eyes were huge. He was alone.
"Is it gone?" I asked.
Jacob came up beside me. "Yes." He looked worse than the last time he'd fought the demon but again his clothing quickly returned to the way it had been before and his skin healed, erasing all evidence of the fight. He grasped my shoulders and turned me to face him. "Are you all right, Emily?" He looked down at me with an intensity I was now used to.
I nodded. "You?"
"Of course." He let me go and strolled over to George, still sitting on the ground. He looked dazed, the poor thing. I suppose reading about demons is quite different to encountering one.
Jacob searched the immediate vicinity then found what he was looking for—George's hat and glasses. He held them out. George stared for a moment then accepted them.
"Thank you," he said. He stood and brushed himself off then slapped his hat on his head. "Shall we go?"
"Gladly." I glanced back at Finch's body. "What shall we do about him?" I didn't want to leave him there for the rats to eat. Ugh.
"I'll have my butler contact the police when I get home," George said. "They'll take care of it."
"Good idea but have him do it anonymously," I said. "None of this is your fault and there's no need for you to become involved any more than you are."
"You'll get no argument from me," he said on a heavy sigh.
The three of us made our way back down the lane to the carriage. The driver still sat on the box, the pistol in his hand. He looked immensely relieved that his master was alive. No doubt Mrs. Culvert would have dismissed him if George had wound up dead from this adventure. He hopped lightly down to the ground and opened the door.
George took my hand to help me in but I removed it and turned to Jacob.
He wasn't there.
The most awful feeling of dread swamped me. The demon was banished which meant Jacob had finished his assignment. There was no need for him to see me anymore.
It might even have led to his finally being able to cross over.
No, Jacob, please. Not yet. Don't leave me.
Somehow I didn't cry as I climbed into the carriage. It was as if my body couldn't make any tears. It was too empty. It felt like I'd just lost a part of myself. A big part. The best part. The most vital part.
And I hadn't even said goodbye.
15
I managed to sneak back into the house and return to bed without waking Celia or Lucy. Already the sky was turning gray as dawn crept up on London with its usual stealth. I lay in bed for what felt like an eternity before my room finally lightened. I spent every single one of those minutes thinking. Waiting. Hoping Jacob would do his old trick of suddenly appearing in my bedroom.
And then he did.
"Jacob! Thank goodness." I tumbled out of bed and threw myself at him, not caring how I looked or what he thought of my unladylike display. I was just so blissfully happy to see him.
He caught me and circled his arms around my waist, holding me tight as if he would never let me go. The hard muscles in his shoulders and chest shifted, flexed. Then loosened. He pushed me away and held me at arms' length.
"He was in bed."
It was not what I'd expected him to say. Not even close. "Who? Finch?"
His hands dropped to his sides, severing all touch entirely. "No, Blunt. When I arrived at the school last night he was asleep."
My chest clenched. My mind reeled. This was not the conversation I wanted to have with him. I wanted to find out what happened now, would he leave, and what was troubling him. I wanted to know what was in store for us. Did we have a future?
But those questions would have to wait. Jacob seemed keen to tell me something about Blunt so it must be important.
"I, uh … " I gave my head a little shake to clear it. "It is a little strange now that you mention it. Surely he must have suspected we would be coming for him after what he witnessed at Belgrave Square. Unless he was very certain of Finch and the demon's victory."
"Nevertheless, if I was him I'd have left London immediately and destroyed all evidence linking me to the demon."
I twisted a strand of hair around my finger, thinking. It only made sense if … "What if it wasn't him at your parents' house?"
He nodded but said nothing. He didn't seem surprised by my conclusion.
"Who could it have been?" I asked.
"I don't know. Are you sure you saw someone?" He shrugged. "The light was poor, you were afraid … Could it have been a spirit?"
I sighed and brushed the end of my hair over my lips. Jacob's gaze followed it. "I suppose so. I don't know. Oh Jacob, what if we're wrong? What if Blunt wasn't to blame?"
He licked his lips and lifted his gaze to my eyes. "Don't think it, Emily. We were right. He confessed and all evidence points to his involvement. He's guilty. But … "
"But there might have been someone else," I finished for him. "Someone with a deeper involvement."
He nodded. "I think Blunt orchestrated the thefts, using Finch and the demon. He targeted the servants and the houses, gathered the information, but I don't think it was his idea. He doesn't seem cunning enough to me."
"He doesn't seem to want to get his hands dirty where the supernatural is concerned. That explains why he got Finch to control the demon. But if there was another involved, then who was it?"
; He shrugged. "With Finch dead and Blunt gone, we won't learn the answer to that." He sighed and rubbed a hand over his chin. "And I've been wondering about one other thing."
"What?"
"My family was home when the demon entered the house. For the first theft, the house was almost empty. If I was organizing a burglary, I would ensure no one was home first, especially the family themselves."
"Maybe Blunt or Finch made a mistake."
He suddenly looked ill. If his face was capable of turning white it probably would have. "Or maybe the purpose was for my family to be home at the time of the break-in."
"Wh-what? But why?"
He shook his head. "I don't know. I really don't."
"No." I shook my head firmly. "No, that's ridiculous. Don't think it. It was a simple burglary." Even as I said it, a small doubt formed in my mind where I couldn't dislodge it. But if he was right and someone wanted to harm his family … why? Why go to so much trouble? It didn't make sense. "At least the demon has been returned," I said, trying to reassure him.
"But how long will it be before another is summoned?" His jaw hardened and he grunted in frustration. "I should have questioned Blunt more. Or Finch."
"You were fighting a demon! Besides, at the time neither of us thought anyone else was involved." I stepped closer and touched his arm to reassure him. He tensed, his muscles knotting, and I rubbed to alleviate some of the anger simmering inside him.
"Don't," he whispered and stepped back, out of my reach.
"No, you don't. Don't leave. Not yet." If he blinked himself off to the Waiting Area without resolving any of the tension between us I was going to scream until the Administrators made him return. "We have something we need to discuss."
To my surprise he nodded.
I waited but he said nothing. The tension seemed to have vanished from him, but he certainly didn't appear relaxed. He shifted from foot to foot and looked everywhere except at me.
Finally, when neither of us spoke to fill the growing silence, his gaze met mine. Shock rippled through me. There was a shine in his eyes that wasn't usually there and a tightness to his lips as if he was pressing them together on purpose.
"Jacob? Say something." Tell me you won't go, tell me you'll stay forever, tell me you love me.
He took my hand in his and drew little circles over my knuckles with his thumb. "I want you to know what happened back there, in Belgrave Square."
Finally. Finally! But now that the time had come I was afraid. Absolutely terrified. A lump clogged my throat and my mouth went dry. I wanted to know the reason—of course I did!—but a feeling of dread swamped me. I was drowning in it. Against every instinct screaming for him not to speak, I nodded at him to go on.
"I warned you," he said. His voice sounded thick and hoarse. "I tried telling you I was dangerous, that you shouldn't develop feelings for me."
"I can't help it! Jacob, I love you—."
He smothered the rest of my words with a light, airy kiss. "Let me finish," he chided gently. "I'm dangerous to you because … because I love you too."
My heart swelled. I think I saw stars. Those beautiful words were exactly what I'd wanted to hear. Nothing, nothing could ever be wrong again now that he'd admitted it.
Then the bubble burst. The stars vanished and my heart collapsed in on itself. "What do you mean? Why does that make you dangerous?" But I knew. I knew.
"Do you remember that day Maree Finch tried to stab you at Culvert's house?" I nodded. "I knew before then that I loved you," he went on. "From the moment we met in fact. It was like … your breath filled my lungs, your heart beat for mine. But it wasn't until the incident at Culvert's that I realized how much I loved you." He watched me with a kind of ferocity, as if he could persuade me of his feelings by a single look. "When Maree ran at you with the knife it was like I was dying all over again. I hated watching you in pain, the fear in your eyes … it was horrible. I was consumed by you in those few terrible minutes … by everything about you. I knew then that I wanted to be with you. Forever." His thumb circled faster. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Forever," I repeated dully. It was difficult to think straight. Impossible to breathe. "In the Otherworld."
He nodded and tilted his face to the ceiling rose. He blinked rapidly then looked back at me. "When I thought you could have died … I was … glad." He whispered, as if he was afraid to say it out loud because it would somehow make it more real. "I wanted Maree to stab you."
He removed his hand from mine but I caught it. I pressed his palm to my lips and kissed the cool flesh. His fingers uncurled against my cheek, his head bent closer to mine. "Ah, Emily, I'm so sorry."
I heaved in a breath. It was difficult with my chest feeling so tight but I did it. "I won't accept your apology, Jacob. You wouldn't have hurt me. I know that like I know I can see the dead. You worried about my health when I got wet and you even warned me to stay away from Whitechapel. That's not the actions of a man who wanted me to die."
He shook his head and pulled his hand free. "I didn’t want to hurt you and I didn't want to see you get hurt. The thought of you being ill or in pain … I couldn't bear it. I wanted the end result without you feeling even a moment's discomfort. Until … " His eyes shuttered closed.
"Tonight."
His nod was slight and I would have missed it if I hadn't been watching him so intently. "I can’t explain how I felt," he went on, opening his eyes again. "Perhaps I was drunk from fighting the demon, or frustrated from spending so much time with you and not being able to claim you as I wanted to, or perhaps I was all too aware that our time together was limited."
I let his words settle before I spoke what had been on my mind for some time. "So the other night when you left my room abruptly, it wasn't because you realized I would grow old and ugly while you stayed young and handsome?"
He suddenly laughed. "Oh Emily, I do adore you."
I frowned. It had been a perfectly serious question. "Your exact words were: 'What if I grow weary watching you wait?'." I could never forget them. They were branded on my memory.
He reached up and touched my hair, curling it around his finger as I had done earlier. His laughter vanished just as rapidly as it had erupted. "I was afraid I would … do something terrible to you if the waiting became unbearable for either of us. It had nothing to do with you aging while I didn't. That's why I left that night, not because I didn't want to stay with you forever but because I didn’t want to encourage your affections any more than I already had. I didn't want you to love me, you see. Knowing how you felt about me only made it harder not to think about you joining me in the Waiting Area, and in the Otherworld when I'm able to cross. I began to justify your death to myself after that." He turned away and buried his head in his hands. "Oh God, Emily, don’t you see?"
I saw. And I should have been afraid of his admission, of him, but I was not. "You're a good person, Jacob. What you're feeling is perfectly natural." I pressed myself into his back and put my arms around his waist, holding him close. I kissed him through his shirt near his shoulder blade. "You're a wonderful, caring, brave soul and nothing you say will stop me loving you."
A shudder rippled through him and I held him tighter. But only for a few beats of my trembling heart because he shrugged me off and moved away to stand near the door.
"You were right when we first met," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "Do you remember? You said I'd forgotten how a gentleman should behave when I insulted your sister." I began to protest but he put up his hand and I stopped. "I am starting to lose a little bit of my humanity each day. I can feel it. I'm slowly losing myself, Emily. I don't want to, just like I don't want to hurt you, but I can't help it."
"Don't talk like that. You're still very much a gentleman."
He shook his head. "I can't come to you anymore," he rasped.
"But I'm going to help you find your killer, your body." It was the only thing I could think of to hold onto, the one thing tying Jacob
to this world, to me.
"I'll do it on my own."
"But Jacob—."
"No. I can't risk another hesitation like tonight. Ever. Or I won't be the person you love anymore. Do you understand? Having you despise me for that would be … worse than anything I could bear."
I understood. And I hated myself for it. The tears poured down my face but I didn't care. I let them flow unchecked as I watched him. His nostrils flared and the muscles high in his cheek throbbed.
"Goodbye," he whispered.
And then he was gone.
I sat down on the rug on my bedroom floor, lowered my head to my knees and cried until Celia came in and guided me back to bed.
I spent the day in bed. I slept fitfully. Celia and Lucy both came and went on occasion, fussing and trying to get me to eat, but I barely heard anything they said. My sister didn't ask me why I was so upset and I was grateful for that.
But her sympathy ended the following day and the questions began almost as soon as she hauled me out of bed. She helped me dress then marched me downstairs to the small parlor behind the front drawing room. Lucy set a breakfast of eggs and toast in front of each of us. I pushed mine away.
"Tell me what happened," Celia said when Lucy left.
I did. Everything.
Afterwards, she watched me for a long time over the rim of her teacup. There were no recriminations for leaving in the middle of the night, no lectures, but no gentle or wise words to make me feel better either. I was grateful. I didn't want them. Nothing would make me feel better ever again. I had a hole in my heart the size of England and it was sucking everything out of me, even the tears.
"So that's that then," Celia announced. I wasn't sure if she was referring to the demon being returned or Jacob leaving. I didn't care.
Later that morning George visited. We talked over the events of the night. I left out the part where Jacob had said goodbye.
Celia, however, did not. "The ghost is gone." She smiled at George and handed him a large slice of sponge cake. It was his second. "More tea?"