The Strangely Beautiful Tale of Miss Percy Parker

by Leanna Renee Hieber

  “Do not expect answers from me, Miss Parker,” he said, stemming Percy’s excitement.

  “Forgive me. It’s just that I’ve prayed desperately for someone who knows something—”

  “We are all looking for something, Miss Parker,” was his reply. When Percy glanced at Constance, she nodded in agreement. “And on that note, I happen to need to look for something, so I bid you adieu.”

  Percy rose, dazed. “Thank you, Professor. Have a lovely evening.”

  “Same to you, Miss Parker,” he replied, furiously scribbling down several notes.

  Percy once again gathered her things, gestured for Constance and left the office. “He could see you! I am amazed!” she exclaimed to the ghost as they entered the hall.

  Constance was gliding at her side. “There is something to all of this, Percy. I can feel it.” A fellow student was walking up the stairwell, so the conversation paused as they descended the steps. Constance resumed speech as soon as Percy was free to respond. “I saw the way you gazed at him when he wasn’t looking…”

  Percy experienced an odd ache and said nothing. She shook a finger at her noncorporeal companion, a firm warning not to speak of such things again. “Until next haunting,” she said.

  The two friends waved good-bye. But as Constance vanished through a nearby wall, Percy could hardly contain herself. Surely fate was beginning to find her.

  Alexi was brooding more than usual.

  “Why did you come to my office for tea?” Rebecca asked wearily. “So I could watch you scowl? I assure you, I’ve seen quite enough of that through the years.”

  “A prophecy. How ridiculous! What respectable man of science lives his life in accordance with some mad vision?” Alexi was lamenting.

  “Only you, I’m sure. It isn’t like anyone else has our lot in life.”

  “Waiting for a promise I can’t prove and a woman I can’t see, blindly trusting that someone is going to waltz in and change everything…”

  “Well. Has she?” Rebecca asked.

  Alexi pinned her with a cool stare. “What?”

  Rebecca sighed. “Has someone waltzed in and changed everything, rearranged the order of your world? You normally aren’t so forthcoming in your laments.”

  Alexi lapsed into silence. After a while, he voiced the true reason for his visit and pinned her with a stare. “Do you know one unmistakable Miss Parker?”

  Rebecca shifted uncomfortably in her chair, but her face remained neutral. “Yes, what about her?”

  “She sees ghosts.”

  Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “Does she now? And how did you find that out?”

  “The girl’s wretched at mathematics. I’m giving her tutorials. Our sessions have led to several interesting revelations.”

  This was the first Rebecca had heard of it. “Private lessons? You have a chaperone, I hope.” She leveled her gaze upon Alexi, all the while shaking her head. “Although, with you I’ve nothing to worry about. You’ve never been one for an affair, much less taking liberties with an oddity. Still, perhaps just for propriety we should send someone—”

  “She can also speak with ghosts,” Alexi continued angrily. “She draws strange symbols that relate to our work, and recently was transported by a painting, crying out in Greek. If those aren’t signs, I don’t know what are.”

  “And was there a portal?” Rebecca asked.

  “No,” Alexi sighed. “And, she’s not our peer. Yet, I cannot help but wonder. Do you think we are looking for a literal portal, or might we accept the suggestion of one? Is Prophecy flexible? Miss Parker is extraordinary.” His eyes flashed as he processed his friend’s previous statement. “Honestly, Rebecca. To call her an oddity? I’d expect more kindness, considering our fate makes us no less—”

  “What of Miss Linden?” Rebecca interrupted. “She has most certainly been ‘placed in our path.’ She keeps inquiring about you at La Belle. Why are you avoiding her?”

  “I’m not avoid—”

  “Yes, you are. All of us except Jane, who isn’t impressed by anything, find her charming. She speaks cryptically, as if she’s scared to admit her powers just as we are. Remember the part of Prophecy that said she would be escaping something? Well, Miss Linden is now our guest, and we suspect she’s—”

  “Please don’t say it.”

  A long silence passed as they stared at each other. Rebecca finally reached out a hand and placed it on his. “Your goddess isn’t coming back, Alexi. Not in the way you may think. That’s what you’re struggling with; I know it. You’re looking to find her, the former lover of whatever possesses you. But that isn’t to be, and it wasn’t what was foretold. You are here, a mortal. With us, other mortals. There’s work to be done and choices to be made. Business. It’s just business, Alexi. So come and be present with your friends rather than hiding in your office.”

  Alexi furrowed his brow. “I’m supposed to love her, Rebecca.”

  His friend’s eyes flashed. “For the last time, Alexi, love has nothing to do with the prophecy!”

  “Goodness, Rebecca, it’s nothing to be upset about.”

  “Of course it’s something to be upset about! The fate of many lives hangs in the balance! Love will only complicate matters, don’t you see?” She rose from her chair and went to the window. After a long moment she turned, her expression pinched. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love. If you’re avoiding Miss Linden…Don’t tell me Miss Parker has your interest. That simply cannot be—”

  “I’m not in love with anyone, Rebecca,” Alexi replied. “Other than the goddess, my intended, the only woman I felt I was ever allowed to—”

  “Bloody parasites is all they are, commandeering our futures without a care for our hearts, our needs!” Rebecca cried out. “Your goddess isn’t coming, Alexi! And she didn’t love you. She loved what was taking up residence inside you.”

  Alexi froze, his friend’s words touching down violently in a vulnerable place like a flash of lightning. He hadn’t really thought of that. He’d never wanted to think that his goddess never loved him; but, truly, what did she know of Alexi Rychman? What could she know? He was just a vessel, after all.

  Slowly he rose from his chair and turned to the door. He wanted nothing to do with this, any of this, anymore. “To hell with Prophecy, Rebecca. Let the war come. I’ll just teach mathematics and we’ll all die alone.”

  As he flung the door open and exited, Rebecca cried out, “Alexi, no! Don’t take it in such a manner! Come back and sit with me…”

  The door shut.

  Pounding her fist on her desk, Rebecca collapsed into her chair with a string of curses.

  Alexi went home to his cold, empty estate, which represented everything he was. Throwing himself into his leather throne of a library chair, seizing a snifter of brandy and seeking to lose himself in volumes of scientific journals, he felt an irrepressible anger begin to boil up. “If you won’t help me, Goddess, if you’ve no care for me, then you can’t ask me to suffer your cryptic riddles,” he hissed. “No more. Prophecy be damned.”

  It wasn’t until he caught a whiff of smoke that he realized his anger had set the room on fire. Actual fire. He had sway over candles and the occasional gas lamp but inadvertent arson hadn’t previously been in his repertoire. He raised his hands and the flames went out, and then he cradled his head and fell into a wretched sleep.

  Having transported himself a full continent south of his previous travails, the Groundskeeper grunted, wiping sweat from his furrowed brow with the sleeve of his long grey coat. The ash caked on his cuff smeared dark lines across his forehead.

  “So much work, my lady! If you’ve gone before to help, seems your work’s been undone. The seals hold fast. Damn those mortals!”

  He brought his chisel down hard, its metal singing against the glassy base of a lava flow. The surrounding rock seemed to shudder, almost to belch, and a fresh, thin layer of dust began to settle over his skin and begrimed clothes.

  “
Ah…” He pressed thin lips into a smirk. “Loosening, loosening, for chaos to come.” His song was like the voice of a strangled bird.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  His eyes burned as Alexi read the letter to his sister he’d toolong failed to write. “Dear Lord, Alexandra, what more can I do?” he murmured bitterly. “I’ll visit when I can.”

  There was a knock at his door. He didn’t want to see or speak with anyone, but it was time for Miss Parker’s tutorial, and of all the people in his life she was the one he least minded. “Come!”

  Nodding with her usual deference, she entered, and Alexi noticed a lightness to Miss Parker’s step. As she sat in her chair, he held out an expectant hand. She produced her assignment, though the fingers of her left hand danced busily out of sight. Alexi signed his letter, sealed it hastily and abruptly began a lecture.

  To Percy it seemed as if Professor Rychman would rather be anywhere else. It troubled her that she should be so attuned to his energy, to the key changes in the music of his presence. As his lesson came to a close, she leaned forward to gather her things. “Are you well, sir?” she asked, daring to look up at him.

  He waved a dismissive hand.

  “Truly?” she pressed.

  The professor raised an eyebrow. “You know, for a meek young lady you can be dreadfully persistent. My life outside of this campus, Miss Parker, is trying. Not that it’s any of your business. Also, someone close to me is not well.”

  “Ah. Miss Thompson,” Percy guessed.

  “What? No. Why her?” The professor narrowed his eyes.

  Percy shrugged, staring into her lap. “Well, sir, I thought perhaps you and she—”

  “She and I? Nonsense, whatever it is you’re insinuating,” he barked. “My sister is ill.”

  Percy wished she had remained silent, and yet she suddenly felt overjoyed. Was her professor actually free from attachments after all? It seemed that neither the Frenchwoman named Josephine nor Headmistress Thompson laid claim to him. “My prayers shall be for your sister,” she murmured, rising to her feet. “And for your life here and outside.”

  “Are you well, Miss Parker?” the professor asked. “You’ve been fiddling with something all evening that has nearly driven me to distraction.” He looked pointedly at her left hand.

  “My apologies, Professor. I haven’t been able to part with it all day. I just received it,” she confessed, holding up an ornate little cross, “for my birthday, along with my favourite book of fairy tales. Reverend Mother is so thoughtful.”

  “Fairy tales?” When Percy cringed, the professor spoke with less disdain. “Which is your favourite?”

  It never failed to surprise her when he asked questions that bred familiarity. “Well…” She hesitated, looking away. “Beauty and the Beast,” she said finally. “I identify with the characters.”

  “Because you think yourself the Beast.”

  Percy bit her lip and tried to stare through the floor so as not to cry.

  “Foolish girl,” the professor said, and Percy could not tell if his intent was gentle, condescending or both.

  Feeling both ugly and childish, Percy put on her glasses to hide her tears and drew her scarf tight about her head and neck. At the same time she reassured herself that his words were meant as an encouragement.

  “Have I rattled you so very much?” he pressed, his voice like faraway thunder.

  She paused. Then, in a moment of fleeting bravery she removed her glasses and stared into his eyes. “Always.”

  The professor almost smiled. “Finally, you are honest with me.”

  She was quick to reply. “I’ve never been dishonest.”

  “Be of good cheer, faint heart, you are too easily hurt,” he chided.

  “My heart is fortified with passions, Professor; it is my confidence that is too easily undone.”

  The professor just pursed his lips. Percy lingered a moment in the power of his stoicism. She reminded herself she’d been treated no differently than any other here, beast or no, and she would be forever grateful to him for that fact alone.

  “Until next time,” he stated, releasing her from the bondage of his stare with the wave of a finger. But as Percy opened the door, feeling she would breathe easier once she reached the hallway, he called, “Miss Parker?”

  “Yes, Professor?” She turned, a hitch in her breath.

  “Happy birthday. Which is it?”

  “Nineteen,” she replied.

  “Nineteen,” he repeated, evaluating the number with a slight grimace. “Well, Miss Parker, may your birthday wish come true.”

  Percy felt a bright smile cross her face and she curtseyed. “Thank you, Professor!” But recalling the particulars of her birthday wish, Percy disappeared out the door before her professor could note her guilty blush.

  As she exited Apollo Hall, dreaming what her professor’s birthday embrace might feel like, a dozen pink roses suddenly appeared from behind a courtyard pillar. Percy leaped back. The boy she recognized from her literature class, Edward, peered out from around the pillar, his eyes aglow. Percy blushed and put gloved hands over her cheeks to hide.

  “Alles Gute zum Geburtstag!” Marianna cried, jumping out on the other side of Edward. “Happy birthday!”

  “Marianna, Edward—thank you both! How sweet you are!” Percy giggled. Edward mimed taking her hand and kissing it chivalrously, not quite daring the wrath of the school should he actually do so.

  “Merry natal day!” he cried, bowing with an exaggerated flourish. The walking stick he carried made him look the youthful, endearing dandy.

  The three strolled to the fountain, where Edward begged leave to attend his studies. He leaned in to mime kissing Marianna’s hand. The German girl’s face turned pink, but her eyes were bright and gay. A courtship of stares must have been building between the two in their class, Percy assumed, but this connection was a bold new step.

  As Edward backed away from the fountain, still staring at the hand he had imagined kissing, he stumbled. He spun upon the culpable stone with mock fury, trouncing it soundly with his walking stick while the girls laughed. Marianna’s cheeks grew increasingly flushed, and Percy wondered if her friend just might swoon right then and there into the fountain.

  “How was your lesson today, alone in that room with your dear professor?” the German girl whispered airily, abruptly turning the tables.

  Percy replied calmly, refusing to betray herself with giggles. “It was professional and uneventful. He said he hoped my birthday wish came true.”

  “If only he knew,” Marianna murmured.

  Percy turned and clapped a hand over her friend’s mouth. The German girl squealed with glee, but the sound was stifled.

  “You will be my undoing, Marianna. I swear, that talk of yours will get me expelled!”

  “No, I promise, Percy, your fascination remains our secret alone!”

  In some ways, Marianna’s friendship with Edward could not have come at a better time. At dinner in the ladies’ dining hall, as Percy and her friend sat sipping a bland soup, a few chattering girls brought in a length of paper. In a matter of moments a banner posted above the dining room doorway proclaimed:

  IF YOU WILL PATIENTLY DANCE IN OUR ROUND AND SEE OUR MOONLIGHT REVELS, GO WITH US! AUTUMNAL GALA OF 1888 SATURDAY, 8 P.M.

  A girlish cheer went up about the room, and the usual topic of conversation—young men—changed to something new: dancing. The anxieties over Jack the Ripper, whose name had been ceaseless in its flow through the dining hall for the past month, especially with all the newspaper coverage, vanished in the excitement. For the first time all year, the girls of Athens would actually be able to touch the opposite sex without reprimand. How else could they dance?

  “Eine Tanz, Percy! I must send home for my gowns!”

  “‘If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts,’” Percy murmured.

  “What?”

  “Titania’s next line is more appropriate for me.”

 
Marianna sighed. “Ah. Is that your poetic way of declining the invitation?”

  “Why attend? I was never taught to dance.” Percy’s attempt at disinterest failed, however, for fantasy had got the better of her and she imagined elegant couples aglow with cheer, chandeliers, music…

  “You must attend,” Marianna said gently. “For such nights are the stuff dreams are made of.”

  “What could I expect other than cruel whispers and derision? No, I cannot go,” Percy replied. She tried to return to her soup, but a sudden vision of a bloody dog’s muzzle appeared and ruined her appetite.

  Many blocks away, The Guard sat by their usual window at La Belle et La Bête. The circle was not complete, to be honest, for Alexi and Jane were again missing, but their party included a beautiful new face.

  Alexi hadn’t spent time in the café for a number of days, and Rebecca was quieter than usual, her shoulders tight and her words clipped. Jane had visited earlier for a cup of tea, but upon hearing news of Miss Linden’s arrival she excused herself, stating that she simply didn’t have a use or inclination for any more friends.

  A candle at the center of the table dripped onto the tablecloth, and Elijah was absently gathering wax on his fingertips into a ball. Josephine hovered nearby, pouring more tea.

  “What a shame, Miss Linden, that you’ve come to London during a spate of such horror,” Michael remarked.

  Lucille agreed softly. “But it would always be daunting, to be a lone woman in London, would it not?”

  “That is why we make friends, Miss Linden,” Rebecca replied.

  None of them had inquired further regarding Miss Linden’s past, and she hadn’t volunteered. It was not proper to pry. But they took her warmth toward them as evidence of her goodwill and gratitude.

  “Never worry, Miss Linden. I am here for your protection,” Elijah assured her with a wide smile.