by C. J. Archer
“I almost feel sorry for Blunt,” I said.
“Was he like this the last time you met him?” Theo asked.
“No.” I pressed a hand to my stomach, suddenly feeling a little ill myself. “Oh George, what have we done? What if Jacob’s haunting was the reason Blunt took up the habit in the first place?”
“Don’t think like that, Emily,” George said. “We are not to blame.”
“Agreed,” Theo said. “You cannot be held accountable for the actions of a grown man capable of making his own decisions.” He suddenly took my hand and kissed it, eliciting a polite cough from George. Theo let go, removed his hat, and dashed his fingers through his hair. “My apologies,” he muttered.
“No need to apologize,” I said, bemused. He was behaving rather oddly all of a sudden. Very…earnest. Perhaps he’d been overcome with ardor. I quite liked the thought of that.
“I wonder what he’ll do when he finds his next dose missing?” George said.
A terrible thought struck me. “Will he die without it?”
“No, nothing like that. Having too much of it will kill him, not the withdrawal. Although he’ll probably want to die as the pain worsens.”
“I wonder if this was all he had left.” Theo took the package out of his jacket pocket again.
George gasped then half rose out of his seat. He removed his hat, pulled down the window, and shouted at the driver to stop and return to the Institution. We jerked back and forth as the coach halted. The movement sent me closer to Theo. Our thighs touched. Neither of us shifted away.
“I hope we’re not too late,” George said, his eyes sparkling like gems.
“Too late for what?” Theo asked.
“To follow him,” I said, as George’s intention became clear. Excitement trickled down my spine. “If Blunt has no more opium, he will probably go to buy some before his condition worsens. If we can stop him but promise to let him go if he answers our questions, we might finally find out if he is indeed the villain.”
“Blackmail.” Theo grinned. “Brilliant!”
“I prefer to think of it as an incentive,” George said. “Blackmail sounds so despicable and our intentions are honorable.”
The coach swung into the traffic and headed back the way we’d come. Within moments it had pulled up outside the school again. Theo got out and spoke to the school’s footman. A moment later he returned to the coach and spoke to our driver.
“Blunt did indeed leave just after us,” he said as the coach rolled forward. “I’ve given the driver instructions to slowly scour the nearby streets to search for him. He cannot have gone far.”
George looked out one window and I peered out the other. Theo, sitting next to me, reached over my shoulder and lifted the curtain higher. He was so close I could feel his warm breath on my ear and his chest against my back. His heart drummed a strong, rhythmic beat. I liked it. Liked it very much. But I was acutely aware that he wasn’t Jacob. I closed my eyes and threw up a prayer that he was all right.
Theo drew in a deep, shuddery breath then shifted back a little. I applauded him for doing the honorable thing, yet part of me missed his solidness, and the way he made my nerves thrum with anticipation.
“I think…” George was off his seat, his nose squashed against the window pane. “There! Getting into that hansom.”
“Has he seen us?” I asked. George’s coach was distinctive with the Culvert escutcheon painted on the door. Blunt would recognize it instantly.
“I don’t think so. By the look of concentration on his face, he’s trying not to be sick and doesn’t seem to be noticing anything except the cab.” He pulled down the window and ordered his driver to follow the hansom but to keep some distance.
“Let’s hope they don’t travel too fast,” I said. “There’s an awful lot of traffic. It’ll be easy to lose him if your driver is not vigilant.”
“I’m not so worried about losing him as I am ending up at an opium den,” George said.
Theo murmured agreement. “I’ve heard some of them are gruesome, certainly unfit for a lady to enter. We must decide who goes in and who stays here with Emily.”
“You are not leaving me behind!”
George put up his hands, placating. “Let’s worry about that when we find out where he’s going. If we can stop him entering the den altogether, we will not need to separate.”
I had never seen an opium den before and I wasn’t going to see one today. I knew where we were heading as soon as we hit the newer, blander streets of London’s outskirts, and it wasn’t to a squalid back lane. We drove past houses that were all the same, their features indistinguishable from each other, their facades unassuming.
“He’s going to Price’s house,” I said.
“Leviticus Price?” George screwed up his nose, pushed up his glasses, and squinted at the houses sliding past the window. “Good lord, I think you’re right.”
“You’ve mentioned Price before,” Theo said. “Is he the paranormal expert?”
“Yes, and now the Grand Master of the Society For Supernatural Activity,” George said. “He’s very knowledgeable.”
“He has helped us in the past,” I said. “Albeit reluctantly. He is not the nicest of men.”
George snorted. “He’s got the manners of a sewer rat. Ah, yes, this is his street.”
The coach slowed then pulled to a stop a few houses down from Price’s. George poked his head out the window. After a few moments, he pulled it back in. “Price’s landlady has just let Blunt inside.”
“I wonder why Price has come here and not to a den,” I said. “He should be desperate for his opium now. Do you think he’s getting it from Price?”
“You may be right,” George said.
Theo nodded. “He must be. What a strange arrangement.”
“A shocking arrangement,” I muttered. “I wonder how long it has been going on.”
“Price must be gaining something from it,” George said, “but what?”
“Money.” Theo’s jaw set hard and the word sounded like it was ground between clenched teeth before being spat out. “Why does anyone do anything of a shocking nature?”
I looked to George, but he didn’t seem to notice Theo’s bitter tirade.
“Let’s not condemn Price yet,” George said. “We don’t know for certain if that’s why Blunt has come here. There could be all sorts of other reasons. It could even be a simple social call.”
“Oh, George, don’t be so naïve,” I said. “Price may be the Grand Master of your society, but that doesn’t mean he’s innocent. For all we know, he may be behind everything.”
“Emily! Price may be a little…difficult at times, but he’s never abused his paranormal knowledge before.”
“That we know of.”
“And he did help us find the culprits who released the shape-shifting demon.”
“He led us to Finch, who indeed was controlling it, but there was someone else involved too. I am certain of it.”
“Blunt.”
I shook my head. “I’ve never been entirely convinced of Blunt’s guilt. He was terrified when Jacob haunted him at the school. You’d think a man who knew all about shape-shifting demons would be more comfortable with the supernatural.”
“As I recall, Beaufort had a knife. A knife-wielding spirit would terrify anyone.”
“Blunt was afraid of being haunted from the start,” I said. “Even before Jacob threatened him with the knife.”
George sniffed. “Blunt was the villain then and I am certain he’s the villain now too. He must be. Look at him. Any man in the grip of opium must have a guilty conscience to suppress.”
“Any man controlled by opium is too weak of mind to be behind the summoning of Mortlock and now this curse. Price has proven to us on many occasion that he is very strong willed.”
“It cannot be Price,” George said. “He doesn’t have children and his name is not Seymour.”
“The same can be said of Blunt
, yet you consider him the villain.”
George said nothing to that, probably because whatever argument he used would also throw suspicion on Price. Instead, he opened the coach door.
“Let’s go and see what they’re up to, shall we?”
Theo caught his arm. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We don’t want to alert them to our suspicions.”
George sat back with a sigh and shut the door again. “We need Jacob.”
They both looked to me. “He’s terribly unwell,” I said, then I realized how absurd it was for a spirit to be described as ill. “I don’t want to summon him. I think we should wait a little longer.”
“What if they’re putting a curse on the Otherworld right at this moment?” George said. “We should go in.”
“You’re right.” Another curse might spell the end for both Jacob and the Waiting Area. “Let’s go.”
“It will serve to eliminate Price, if nothing else.”
Theo shook his head and stayed me with a hand to my arm. “I don’t think Blunt would be in any state right now to enter the Otherworld, or assist Price to.”
“I give you that point,” George said, sitting back down. “Once he takes the opium, he’ll be useless for a while.”
So we waited. And waited. George’s stomach growled every minute, without fail. It was mid-afternoon and we’d not had luncheon.
“My apologies,” he said after each gurgle.
I rubbed my temples where a dull ache had taken up residence, tapping against my skull. “Perhaps we should go. Nothing is happening here.”
Jacob appeared on the seat beside George but I could see right through him. He slumped forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked up at me through tired, flat eyes.
“Jacob.” I stifled a sob. “Oh, Jacob.”
George and Theo followed my gaze.
Jacob held up a hand as if to assure me he was fine, but it was unconvincing considering the look of him. “You’re right,” he said, his voice thin. “Nothing will happen here now.”
“You’ve been inside?”
He nodded. “Briefly. Blunt is lying dazed on Price’s sofa. He’s an opium addict.”
“We know. We found a small amount on his person. What about Price? What was he doing?”
“Reading the newspaper near the fireplace.”
“So he supplied Blunt with the opium.” I relayed the details of Jacob’s account to Theo and George.
George blew out a breath. “I suppose you’re right. I cannot believe it. Leviticus Price, an opium supplier.”
“Emily, I have to…go.” Jacob faded away and I thought that was it, he’d gone, but he returned, albeit faintly.
My heart jumped into my throat. I wanted to hold him, but that wasn’t possible with an audience and he looked much too ethereal to grasp anyway. “Go if you must. Rest.”
He weakened again, only to flare up, as if he’d used some energy he’d kept in reserve. “There’s…I need to…you…” His words faded in and out with his body.
“You need to tell me something?”
He nodded. “Mrs. White…”
“Yes, you said Seymour earlier. Is she related to Frederick in some way?”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I found…type.”
“You found a type? Type of what?”
With a frustrated click of his tongue, he became as solid as he used to be. “Daguerreotype.”
“You found a daguerreotype in her room?”
He nodded. “It was of Mrs. White and a young man. I recognized him.”
My knees bumped his. I had not known I was leaning forward. Theo and George leaned forward too even though they could not hear Jacob.
“Frederick,” I said on a whisper. “It was Frederick in the picture, wasn’t it?”
“The one I fought,” Jacob said with a nod. He began to fade again at an alarming rate.
“Do you think they are related?”
“Yes. It…family portrait.”
I pressed my hand to my mouth. It was too strange, too amazing. Just as I was about to ask more questions, Jacob disappeared. He did not come back.
“What is it?” George asked.
“Emily, are you all right?” Theo frowned at me. “You look quite pale.”
“Mrs. White,” I blurted out. I told them about the daguerreotype in her room. “To have a portrait of just her and Frederick, that must mean they are, or were, very close.”
“His mother?” George said. “Surely not.”
“What do we know of her?” Theo asked.
“Very little,” I said. “Your cousin, Wallace, told us Frederick lived with his father. Wallace assumed the mother had died until one day Frederick told him she was very much alive. He never did find out what happened to her.”
“So Mrs. White is cursing the Otherworld?” George stuck his head out of the window and called instructions to return to the Grosvenor Street house.
“It is certainly looking that way.” The coach moved off. I thought George was about to say “I told you it wasn’t Price,” but he caught my glare and shut his mouth.
“What will we say to her when we see her?” Theo asked. “We cannot accuse her of being Mrs. Seymour without proof.”
“The daguerreotype will be proof,” George said.
“But we cannot enter her room if she refuses to let us in.”
“Theo’s right,” I said. “But I think there’s another way. George, tell your driver to divert to my house.”
George banged on the roof of the coach then shouted the order out the window. “Don’t keep us in suspense, Em,” he said when he sat back in the seat. “What have you in mind?”
“Do you recall how the shape-shifting demon escaped?”
“Your sister accidentally released it.”
Theo laughed then quickly apologized. “But it does sound rather ridiculous. How does one accidentally release a demon?”
I told him of the peddler woman who’d come to our house and convinced Celia to purchase a rather interesting amulet to use as a prop at our séances. When I’d summoned the spirit at our next event, she’d used the amulet in what she’d assumed was a harmless manner and the demon had emerged through the open portal.
“I see,” Theo said. “If the person cursing the Otherworld is the same as the one who released the demon and Mortlock, then the peddler is our prime suspect.”
“And my sister might recognize her.”
“Which is why you need her to see Mrs. White,” George finished.
“Didn’t she meet Mrs. White when she worked at the school?” Theo asked.
“No, she only dealt with Blunt.”
“Brilliant move, Emily,” George said. “You’re exceedingly clever for a woman.” He knew he’d said something wrong as soon as it was out of his mouth. I didn’t even need to glare at him, although I did anyway. “I, uh, my apologies. That’s not what I meant.”
“It most certainly is what you meant,” I said.
Theo snorted a laugh.
“I don’t see the funny side,” I snapped at him.
“No?” Theo nodded at George. “Just look at his face. Any moment now he’ll get down on his knees and beg forgiveness.”
George did look terribly upset so I stopped glaring.
“I am sorry and you must believe me when I say I didn’t mean it to sound the way it did. You and Adelaide are the cleverest females I’ve met. She could match wits with the most learned of paranormal scholars. She’s very easy to teach, takes everything in. I admire her greatly.”
“So I see,” I said dryly. Listening to him back-pedal made me think of Jacob. Now he would never have slighted the whole of womankind.
Theo nudged me with his elbow. “Never mind. I still admire you greatly.” His eyes twinkled mischievously. “Shall I list all your virtues to make you feel better?”
“We haven’t enough time for that. The ride home is only ten minutes.”
He chuckled. “I do admire
you though, Emily. You are a most remarkable woman.”
“And you are much too kind.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” The twinkle vanished, but he continued to watch me from beneath his long lashes. It was most unnerving. I couldn’t begin to guess what was meant by his unexpected intensity. His earlier humor was gone, and the adoration with it, which was rather peculiar, not to mention disappointing. He seemed…disturbed by something.
I chatted incessantly all the way home to distract myself. By the time we arrived in Druids Way, I couldn’t recall what I’d said. Something about Adelaide’s ball.
It wasn’t as easy to convince Celia to come with us as I thought it would be. She refused to leave until we’d all had a quick bite to eat.
“You haven’t eaten all day,” she said, setting down the letter she was reading on the table beside the sofa. She rose and pulled the bell cord to summon Lucy. “Think of the men. They cannot be expected to work on an empty stomach.”
I looked up at the ceiling in the hope of finding some patience there. “Celia, forget about food, this is important.”
“It can wait.” Lucy arrived and Celia gave orders to serve cold meat, bread and cheese in the dining room. “And take something out for the driver and footmen too.”
“Celia! We must go!”
“Actually, Em,” George said, “I’m exceedingly hungry.”
“We’ll eat quickly,” Theo assured me.
“And the horses could do with a rest,” George went on. “I’ll have the driver give them some feed while they wait.”
He left, as did Celia to help Lucy. I sat on the sofa and picked up the letter my sister had been reading. My stomach sank as I read.
“Something wrong?” Theo asked, sitting next to me, his hat in his hands.
“Another cancelation.”
“Ah.”
“You and George were right. My reputation is in tatters and our business on the brink of ruin.” I had never liked conducting the séances, but I’d never actually thought a time would come when we didn’t do them. It was all rather sudden and not quite real.
His fingers edged around the brim of his hat. “I’m sorry, Emily. I’m truly sorry.” He looked at the hat, not at me.