by C. J. Archer
"Have you even tried?"
He looked away. It would seem he didn't want to talk them out of it. "Best be on your way now." He slapped the coach door. "Give Mr. Langley my regards."
The coach drove off. I watched Weeks through the window until we rounded the corner, then I scanned the streets and buildings for signs of ghostly trouble. It was all quiet.
"Fool," Tommy muttered.
I nodded gravely. "If a mob forms and goes to the Tudor house, they'll be set upon by Redbeard and the others."
"They'll be armed," Quin said. "I'm sure they can protect themselves."
"But they'll be at a disadvantage, unable to see their attackers, only their weapons."
"Not to mention they'll discover the truth about ghosts." Sylvia clasped her hands in her lap and appealed to me. "After all our attempts to keep the paranormal a secret, it will finally come out in such a dramatic manner. They'll think us mad. They'll think themselves mad!"
"Let's not worry about that until it happens," I told her. "Besides, people tend to explain away what they don't understand. You saw how Weeks responded to the damage done to his station."
Sylvia peered out the window too. "I'm surprised he fell for the storm story. Relieved but surprised."
"People believe what they want to believe."
"His mind is closed to the possibility of the paranormal," Tommy said. "It's beyond not only his comprehension, but his imagination too."
"Something to be thankful for," Sylvia muttered. "Let's hope the rest of the village lacks imagination too."
We drove down the main streets and some smaller ones too, but saw nothing untoward. Tommy asked Fray to go past the Tudor house next, but it too was empty.
"They've gone again," I announced after a walk-through of the old house.
"Damnation," Tommy muttered. "I'd hoped to resolve this once and for all."
I hazarded a glance at Quin, but he sat stoically, his back straight, the sword on his lap. If he wanted the ghostly problem resolved too, he gave no sign. I, however, sighed heavily. I didn't want it to end just yet. When the ghosts left, Quin would return to Purgatory and I might never see him again.
We continued on to Frakingham. The now familiar sight of the house seemed more inviting than ever with the reflection of the afternoon sun setting the dozens of windows ablaze.
One of the lower ones suddenly exploded, sending glass shattering onto the garden bed. Sylvia screamed.
"Bloody hell!" Tommy stared, wide-eyed, as Mrs. Moore's frightened face peered out of the glassless window. "I think we've found the spirits."
CHAPTER 13
Tommy, Quin and I raced up the front steps and pushed open the door. Sylvia gasped at the mess that greeted us. The wall mirror had been smashed and the hat stand overturned. Hats and umbrellas were strewn across the floor. The front of the long case clock stood ajar, and the mechanisms had been pulled out like the guts of a slaughtered pig. It was perhaps fortunate that the entrance hall was sparsely furnished. I hated to think what the library must look like, or Langley's laboratory.
"Cara?" Quin asked.
"Empty," I said.
A crash came from directly above us. The chandelier swayed and plaster dust snowed down onto the floor tiles.
"Uncle!" Sylvia moved off, but I caught her arm and Tommy blocked her way. "I have to see if he's all right!"
"Keep your voice down," I hissed. "We have to take them by surprise."
"But Uncle August and Bollard may be in trouble."
"And how will we take them by surprise?" Tommy asked, looking up at the ceiling again. "They probably saw us arrive."
Quin set off up the stairs, forcing the rest of us to follow or be left behind. I picked up my skirts and ran to catch up so that I could be alongside him. "Stay behind me," he warned.
"I won't be able to see them if I'm behind you."
We crept as silently as possible to the first floor landing. I caught Quin's arm, halting him, and nodded in the direction of a ghost with his back to us, gazing out the window.
Quin sliced his sword through the empty air and raised his brows at me. I shook my head and put out my hand for the sword. Reluctantly, he gave it to me. I crept up behind the ghost and chopped the blade lengthways through his body. He half turned, gasped, and tried to say something, but couldn't speak. I reached into the chest cavity and pulled out his soul. Fear flickered in his eyes before I crushed the black mass.
I handed the sword back to Quin. Sylvia turned her face into Tommy's shoulder.
Another crash nearby made me jump and Sylvia mutter a cry that she covered with her hand. Quin headed toward it, but I held him back. I needed a weapon. It didn't need to be an otherworldly blade, just something to defend myself and drive them toward Quin and Tommy if possible.
I removed the flowers from the vase on the table beneath the window and grabbed the candelabra off another. I handed the latter to Sylvia, but she shook her head and eyed it dubiously. I shoved it at her chest, forcing her to take it.
Then I headed into the parlor alongside Quin. The spirits spotted us immediately. They set down the chair they were about to hurl through the window and eyed Quin's sword.
"There's three," I said. "By the window."
"Blimey!" said one of the ghosts who then disappeared.
"Now there're two." I doubted the third had decided to return to the afterlife. More likely he'd gone to warn the others. I could still hear them throughout the house, crashing about, breaking things. I prayed that Bollard, Langley and the servants were unharmed.
The two remaining spirits sneered and picked up broken chair legs. They didn't bother with Tommy, but descended on Quin. Perhaps they should have gone for the semi-crippled target, because Quin slayed them easily, felling both with a single stroke. Tommy removed the soul of one while Quin accounted for the other.
The dust hadn't even reached the floor when more spirits appeared.
"Four!" I shouted. "Two on your left, Quin, one by the fireplace and another…here." I threw the contents of the vase over the spirit nearest me. I wasn't sure if water was like solid objects or would pass right through him. It wet him thoroughly, however, and he spluttered and blinked as any live person would do.
"Bitch!" he shouted at me, wiping his eyes.
I smashed the vase into his face, sending him reeling backward. "Tommy! There!" I pointed at the soggy ghost, but Tommy had already spotted him—or rather, he'd noticed the indentation the ghost's body made in the armchair he'd fallen into. He ended the spirit's existence a mere moment later.
Sylvia raised the candelabra, ready to strike. "Any more, Cara?"
I looked around. Quin had destroyed one and was fighting another two who used the wooden chair legs as weapons, but with far more finesse than the first ghosts. He dispensed with one nevertheless, but another two popped into existence. They'd picked up books before I could alert anyone, and flung them at us.
Tommy and I moved out of the way in time, but one struck Sylvia in the hip. She hissed in pain and rubbed her hip. Tommy barged forward, the knife raised high.
"Show yourselves, cowards," he growled.
The spirits merely laughed and moved away. There was no point telling Tommy where they'd gone. The ghosts would simply move aside or leave altogether. He would waste energy in trying to strike them. Energy he didn't have.
It happened to Quin too. They'd gotten smarter. Every time he disarmed a ghost, the spirit would disappear, only to reappear elsewhere, usually behind him. It was hopeless. We couldn't go on like this. The only saving grace was that the spirits weren't armed with knives, only table and chair legs, or the odd book or ornament.
Until Redbeard appeared, sword in hand, flanked by another ghost.
"Quin! Behind you!"
He spun and slashed in a swift, deadly move that saw Redbeard's companion fall and Redbeard himself step back in shock. He watched, a stunned expression on his face, as Quin removed the fellow's soul and his dust joined that of the others on the carpe
t.
"Give up," I ordered Redbeard. "This is madness. Your friends are being destroyed."
The shutters came down over Redbeard's eyes, narrowing them to slits. "They're not my friends," he snarled. "And I'm not going back there. I'm not going anywhere." He slashed wildly at Quin, only to be driven back to the doorway.
Quin went after him, but Redbeard managed to slip out to the corridor. The clank of metal on metal moved further away, but I hesitated to follow. I couldn't leave Tommy and Sylvia alone. If the spirits had any sense at all, they would realize that I was gone and their opponents were vulnerable. It would only need an attack from behind to cause terribly injury.
Out in the corridor, Redbeard roared in frustration. "You there!" he shouted. "Attack from the side. And you, behind him!"
Bloody hell. "Quin, behind you! Tommy, Sylvia, with me. Now!"
I ran out of the parlor and fortunately they followed. I heard Tommy grunt in pain and Sylvia gasp, but a thud and another grunt, this time from one of the ghosts, told me they were working together.
"Syl, against the wall," Tommy directed her.
I glanced over my shoulder to see them both with their backs to the wall, lashing out at chair legs and ornaments.
Quin, on the other hand, was fighting off four ghosts alone. I slammed the vase into the back of one's head. It didn't fell him as it would a live man, but it did get his attention. He bared his teeth at me and flexed his hand around his knife handle.
"Cara!" Tommy shouted.
I glanced at him as he dropped the knife to the floor and kicked it toward me.
"Look out!" Sylvia screamed.
I spun back round. The ghost descended on me, poised to strike. I put up the vase and his blade clanged against the porcelain, knocking me off balance. I fell heavily on my side and had no time to recover before the ghost came at me again. I thrust the vase up once more to shield my face, but he kicked it out of my grip. I was unarmed and vulnerable.
He stood over me. "Got you now, bitch."
Sylvia screamed, but there was nothing she or Tommy could do, occupied as they were with their own battle. Quin was also busy with Redbeard and two other spirits, but Sylvia's scream had him turning toward me.
He swore in French and ran toward my ghost. Redbeard's blade nicked his shoulder and another sliced across his arm as Quin shoved the spirit out of the way. Blood oozed out of the wounds, but he didn't seem to notice. He was too intent on the blade descending rapidly toward me.
With the knife mere inches from my chest, Quin cut through the ghost. The spirit screamed and dropped his weapon beside Jack's blade. He fell to his knees, but Quin had no time to pull out the soul.
"Behind you!" I shouted.
He turned and parried Redbeard's swiftly descending sword. I reached into the injured ghost and removed his soul. His dust covered my skirts, bunched up at my knees. I kicked his knife across the floor to Tommy who used it on the ghost attacking him, then I picked up the otherworldly blade and stabbed the same ghost in the back.
He grasped at the wound and opened his mouth to cry out in shock or pain. But it was too late. A moment later, he became a pile of dust. His companion soon followed suit, and another spirit who'd hung back near the parlor door disappeared altogether. Hopefully he'd decided Hell was better than nothingness.
"Give me Jack's knife," Tommy said, holding out his hand. "Quin needs help."
I could have helped him myself, but I handed it to Tommy. Sylvia clasped me tightly as we watched him take one of the spirits by surprise, stabbing him in the back just as I had done with his attacker. Tommy still had dust from the ghost's soul on his hands when Redbeard turned toward him.
I called out to warn him, but Tommy had already spotted the sword coming at him and dodged it. Redbeard disappeared then reappeared behind Quin.
"Duck!" I screamed.
Both Tommy and Quin flattened themselves to the floor. Quin struck out as he did so, cutting the second spirit's ankles. He fell over, dropping his weapon. Quin went to stab him where he assumed his chest to be, but missed. The ghost scooted across the floor on his rear, out of reach.
"Get up!" Redbeard shouted at him.
The ghost shook his head rapidly. "I never wanted this." Then he vanished.
"Coward!"
Quin and Tommy stood back-to-back, ready to strike in any direction. But no attack came. With a roar of fury, Redbeard threw the sword at them then disappeared himself. Quin parried the blade away.
"They're gone." I listened, but could hear no voices or other sounds from the house. "All of them."
"Uncle!" Sylvia called. "Uncle, where are you?"
She went to race off, but I caught her hand. "Wait. We must remain together. There might be an ambush."
We headed up the stairs to Langley's rooms, but neither heard nor saw any more spirits. We finally reached the topmost floor and pushed open the door to the laboratory. To my surprise and relief, it had been left untouched. The books were all in place on the shelves and the scientific equipment seemed to be as it should be, unbroken on the benches. The room smelled of burnt metal and I spotted the culprit at the furthermost bench. I went to turn off the gas burner, but Quin beat me to it. He studied the contraption with a frown. I leaned across him and switched it off.
There was no sign of Langley or Bollard, except for the wheelchair positioned near the bench. Langley must have been studying the reaction of the liquid in the dish over the burner when the ghosts struck. The liquid was now a black, sticky mass that didn't look like it would come off the dish very easily.
"Uncle?" Sylvia called out.
"Here." The muffled voice came from the cupboard behind us. Quin opened the door and Bollard stepped out, Langley in his arms. Langley's hair was mussed and Bollard's face drawn tight, but they appeared unharmed.
Sylvia flung her arms around them both and emitted a small sob. He patted her back then directed Bollard to set him down in his wheelchair.
"Are you both all right?" Sylvia asked, wiping her damp cheeks. "We were so worried."
"We're unharmed," Langley said. "We hid in there as soon as we heard the ruckus." He surveyed his collection of books, notes, equipment, and the dozens upon dozens of jars and containers. "Thank God they didn't come in here."
"They would have found plenty to occupy themselves," I said with a wry smile at Bollard. "We are very glad you're all right."
"And the rest of the house?" Langley asked.
"It'll require some tidying up. We'd best check on the servants."
Quin headed toward the door before I'd even finished speaking. I picked up my skirts and followed him.
"We gave most of them the afternoon off," Tommy called after us. "There was little to do here with you all gone. Glad we did."
"But I saw the housekeeper at the window."
"Poor Mrs. Moore," Sylvia said on a sigh. "She has no family in the village and nowhere to go on her days off. She's rather a fixture here now." She pressed her hand into Bollard's and he smiled back at her.
"Go and help find her," Langley said to his niece. "When you do, have her bring up some tea."
I rolled my eyes at his uncaring manner, but only Bollard saw. He gave me a flat smile then winked.
"This is why I didn't want more servants than necessary," I heard Langley mutter before I left the room. "They see too much."
We found Mrs. Moore cowering under the kitchen table, wringing her apron. She would not come out until I coaxed her with the promise of a cup of hot chocolate. Tommy set about making it over the stove while Sylvia and I sat Mrs. Moore down.
"Flying about the room, they were," she muttered. "Candles and books just floating through the air. I've never seen such a thing. Have you, Miss Langley?"
Sylvia took Mrs. Moore's trembling hands in her own. "Are any of the maids or footmen in the house?"
Mrs. Moore shook her head then looked around the kitchen. "Lucky this room was spared or Cook would have been very displeased. She likes her
things to be kept in order. Do you want me to serve your dinner, Miss Langley? Cook left it all for me to do."
"It's quite all right, thank you. It's not yet dinnertime, and perhaps we can serve ourselves tonight. Indeed, we might even eat in here at this very table. Won't that be an adventure?"
Mrs. Moore gave a horrified gasp. "Miss Langley! I must protest. I admit that the house is in something of disarray, but that doesn't mean we lower our standards. On the contrary, we must raise them! It's only through maintaining the natural order of things around here that the world will return to normal. Indeed, it would be a comfort to me to see everything going on as it should."
Sylvia patted her hand. "Very well. So, uh, what do you think caused the objects to fly around the house?"
"Why, Mr. Langley's experiments of course."
"Pardon?"
I pressed my lips together to smother my smile.
"He's always doing strange things up there. Doesn't like me going in and touching anything. I've suspected for some time that what he did was magic."
"It's science, Mrs. Moore," I assured her.
Sylvia stared hard at me and shook her head. "Magic, science…it's all the same, isn't it?"
The housekeeper nodded. "That it is, Miss Langley."
Quin had finished checking the larder, scullery and other service rooms and was heading for the main door that led back out to the hallway.
"Where are you going?" I called after him.
"To inspect the rest of the house."
"Not without me." I caught up to him at the entrance to the service stairs. "Quin, slow down. I need to look out for more spirits. There might still be an ambush."
We searched the house from attic to basement and every cupboard and nook in between. Frakingham was indeed free of ghosts.
"I wonder if they've gone back to the Tudor house." I eyed Quin closely as we climbed the basement stairs. While he moved easily enough, his jacket and shirt were torn, and blood darkened the fabric.
"We'll go there tomorrow," he said.
"Yes, of course. You'll need time to recover. Tomorrow it is."
He stopped at the top of the stairs and rounded on me. "Very amusing. We'll go tomorrow so you can rest tonight."