The Strangely Beautiful Tale of Miss Percy Parker

by Leanna Renee Hieber

  Opening her eyes, she glanced at the professor, who was now leaning against his chair, gripping it with white knuckles. A light was in his eyes she had never seen. Surely she was dreaming, for this particular look…

  He rose and quickly closed the distance between them. As if in a trance, he took her by the arms and lifted her to her feet. “Our seventh—surely it is you! You’ll do so much for us, Persephone, especially for me. With things the way they are…I can’t wait any longer. I asked for you to be revealed, and you come to answer my prayers!”

  Percy was overcome by his words, by the sight of him gazing down at her, by his nearness, by the smells that were so inherently his—by the lurid intensity rising between them. “Your seventh, Professor? What will I do for you?”

  The fire in his hearth flickered, and it was as if he suddenly realized where he was. Who he was. Flustered, he took a moment to recover. Stepping back, breathing shallowly, he stared at her with confusion and wonder. “Forgive me, Miss Parker. Perhaps now it is you who thinks me mad.”

  “Professor, please, you must explain—” But she was not allowed to finish; a vision came in a wave of heat: She was seized and cradled in the professor’s arms. His eyes were a raging inferno, and his face moved closer. A strong yet gentle hand drove into her hair, tenderly grasped her neck. Professor Rychman was bending as if to kiss her, a lock of his lustrous dark hair brushing her forehead…

  The vision faded as abruptly as it began. Percy’s eyes unclouded once more to see him staring at her. A furious flush broke out across her skin, and her heart leaped in sickening waves.

  Surely noting the change, he said, “And what had you in its clutches this time, Miss Parker?”

  You, she thought, trying to mask her panic. She was desperate to flee, afraid he could read her mind. Oh, how she yearned for that vision to become truth! Light-headed and full of guilt, she ran to her chair, placing her hands upon her cheeks in an attempt to cool them.

  “Miss Parker? What on earth is the matter?”

  She fanned herself desperately. A firm hand clamped upon her shoulder and she whirled, backing away, gazing at him and then looking ashamedly in the other direction.

  He closed the distance again, and touched her arm. “Percy, what did you see?”

  She shook her head, backing off around the desk. “It was nothing. I’m terrible!”

  “Was it an unpleasant vision?”

  “Oh, no, it most certainly was not,” Percy breathed, a voluptuous murmur. Then she clapped her hand to her mouth and cursed herself, biting her fingers.

  He kept stride as she retreated. “Why do you flee me, Percy? What has you so rattled? Was I in this vision?”

  Percy’s blushing silence was her admission. Her fists clenched as she stole furtive glances at his face, and he continued to pursue with measured steps, his voice a veritable purr. Suddenly he was upon her, his hands at her shoulders, and he bent, unable to hold back a whisper, low and rich, that caressed her ear. “Tell me Persephone, goddess…” The tip of his nose brushed her earlobe, his breath lingering there, and Percy swooned against him.

  Before his hands could catch her, she stumbled away and faced him with a mixture of fear and desire. Dimly she realized that his pursuit had backed her up to his desk. He was luminous, his gaze intoxicating. His noble features and suddenly otherworldly presence made Percy think she was witnessing the coming of an angel.

  He again closed the distance between them and cupped her cheek in his palm. “Persephone Parker, you must tell me what you see. I need to know everything.”

  Percy buckled again at the sound of his voice speaking her name and the feel of his hand on her face.

  And then she was seized, was suddenly cradled in the professor’s arms. His eyes were raging fire as his face moved closer. A strong yet gentle hand drove into her hair, another grasped her neck. He was bending as if to kiss her, a lock of his lustrous dark hair brushed her forehead—

  Persephone cried out, dually in shock of his lips so near to hers and the first exact culmination of a vision.

  He gazed down at her, unable to let go. “My dear Miss Parker…”

  “Professor! The very moment you took hold of me was my vision coming true! This has never happened! And…”

  Their eyes locked, and his grasp about her tightened. “Oh my,” he murmured. And then he pressed his lips to hers.

  The fusion was instant. His arms locked around her waist, and in a rustling of fabric and soft breath he lifted her off her feet and made her captive against a bookshelf. He was thirsty yet gentle. His lips hungrily devoured hers, and she returned the kiss with eagerness. The reality of what she had so achingly dreamed was pure heaven.

  His lips finally broke from hers and he moaned, raked a hand down her body. Percy gasped and threw her arms about his neck, clinging to him as tears leaked from her eyes. Her smooth, moist cheek wetted his closely shaven jaw.

  He lowered her feet to the floor again, but refrained from removing his viselike grip. “I am sorry, Persephone, I could not help myself,” he gasped. “Forgive me.”

  Percy laughed, delirious. “What’s to forgive? I’m so tired of caution.”

  But her words caused him to shrink back. Releasing her, nearly sending her to the floor, he murmured hoarsely, cryptically, “Caution? Without a door, a portal…What am I doing?”

  Percy, in a dreamlike state, yet noted a flush had mounted his prominent cheekbones. The absence of his hold was like a gust of cold wind.

  The professor rushed to the window, as if seeking refuge. “You must think me a monster to behave in such an inexcusable way. I, your superior! I, who must be strong and just! I beg you not to think I have taken advantage of my station in order to…” He shook his head, distressed. “Such actions are uncalled for, and are certainly not my fashion. You must forgive me, Miss Parker. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “Please, do not apologize!” Percy gasped. It was as if she’d been doused in cold water, and she rushed forward to rekindle the fire that had so fleetingly been theirs. “Oh, Professor—”

  He raised a hand, halting both her and her speech. “‘Professor’? I am ashamed to be addressed so after what has just transpired!”

  She looked gravely into his eyes, and a truth filled her that seemed irrefutable. “I cannot help being your student. But I’m older, and unlike every other student here. Many girls are married by my age, to men of your station. And there’s surely something pushing us toward each other, no matter where we stand.”

  Rychman clenched his fists. “I cannot deny that, Persephone.”

  Seeing he would say no more, she shook her head, recalling how they had broken apart. “A door, a portal? You speak in riddles. Help me understand.”

  He stepped back, raking a hand through his hair. “I can’t.”

  “Well, I can’t help what I feel,” Percy replied.

  “What you feel, Miss Parker?” he murmured.

  “Would you like me to tell you exactly?”

  The professor cleared his throat. “I fear that would be extremely difficult for me at the moment. But…you must call me Alexi from now on, Persephone. I believe you have earned my familiarity.”

  “Very well then…Alexi,” she murmured.

  They stood in silence a moment.

  A sinking feeling suddenly seized Percy, a fear of the worst. Her own attachment was strong, but perhaps the professor’s reaction had been something baser. Men often punished women for their own loss of control. Her fingers fluttered at her sides and she whispered, “Please, Professor—Alexi—I know the rules of contact. Please don’t have me expelled.”

  He looked horrified, retreated behind the familiar boundary of his marble desk. “I would not dream of it, Miss Parker. I’d never punish you for my mistake.”

  “‘Mistake,’” Percy repeated.

  The look he turned on her was paralyzed and pained, but his voice was hard. “I dare not allow myself any other such indulgence…” His tone
softened. “Thrilling as it was, I dare not cross such a line again. Not until I can be certain.”

  “Certain of what, Professor?” Percy asked. When he opened his mouth and closed it without reply, she pressed, “Until you are certain of what? You owe me some insight, Professor. You spoke of a number, a prophecy even. What do you mean? A prophecy for whom? And, where did you go after the ball? You know how mad I am for answers regarding my—”

  “You will have to remain mad for the time being, Miss Parker!” he barked, staring deep into her eyes as if willing her to understand. “I…I beg your patience.”

  Percy touched her lips. “And what of this?”

  “I suppose you’ll have to keep quiet, my dear—out of respect for both of our places here,” he snapped.

  All Percy’s happiness vanished.

  Alexi’s shoulders fell, and he sighed. “Blessed creature with such a gentle heart…” He skirted his desk and dared approach her, took her arms in his hands. “Miss Parker, Persephone, my dear goddess of a girl—however I am to address you. Look at me, please.” She did as requested, but a tear fell from her eye, and Alexi drew his fingertips across her cheek. She leaned into his palm, but he drew back again, as if he could not trust himself to touch her. “Please listen. There are forces at work upon my life that are beyond my control. I know you, of all people, can empathize. Have you strength enough to bear with me until I see the signs I need?”

  Percy blinked. “I don’t understand, but I’m in your hands.” She gave him a radiant smile, praying he understood the faith she was putting in him. As she moved to touch his arm, however, he turned away, and her breath hitched in her lungs.

  “There is much to make us cautious, Miss Parker. I have a duty toward you; that much is clear. But do not ask too much of me or think too much of me—not yet. Those beautiful eyes of yours say so much, and I simply cannot…This is all rather sudden, untoward, and more than a little upsetting.”

  “For us both,” Percy agreed, noticing how laboured his breath had become, how white his knuckles on his chair. She took a step closer. “However, I—”

  “Get out,” he demanded. “Get out of this office before you drive me mad,” he begged. “Have mercy upon me, Persephone. I do not trust myself.”

  “I trust you,” she said.

  He smiled, and there, in the weariness of his smile, she saw years of loneliness and the toll they had taken. He said, “You trust the man who just set upon you? You are as foolish as I.” Gently he turned her away and gave her a slight push. “Go, beautiful creature. Until next time.”

  “Alexi,” she insisted, reaching for his hand.

  “Percy,” he echoed. But he drew his hand away.

  “Alexi—”

  He placed a finger upon her lips, hushing her. A thrill took her, and the bones of her corset were a sudden prison. He commanded, “Elsewhere you must call me ‘Professor.’ And—as I am still your professor, here and everywhere on these grounds—do as I say: get out of my office. And keep your silence or all is lost. More than you can possibly know.”

  “But—”

  “I shall silence you by any method necessary,” he finished, staring wistfully at her lips.

  “Is that a threat?”

  He smiled sadly at her breathy, hopeful reply. “Out. Mercy, I say. I’ll call for you soon.” Stepping out the door, she turned, but he waved her on and she could see the battle in his eyes. “Sweet dreams, sweet Persephone. Sweet dreams.”

  A tall dark figure burst into the headmistress’s office, muttering to himself, and Rebecca jumped, her pen scrawling across her paper. “Alexi—dear God, knock, will you? Your presence is startling enough as is.”

  Her friend crossed to the window, brooding.

  “What is it, Alexi?”

  “Prophecy,” he breathed.

  Rebecca rose anxiously from her chair. “Did you see the sign? Was there a door?”

  “Not exactly,” Alexi admitted. “I…I need to clear my mind. But there’s an answer here, timid as she is, unexpected as she is. But, must I not wait? This admission is just between us for the moment, Rebecca. Until I have more proof, until I have—”

  “You’ve been speaking with Miss Linden?”

  Alexi turned. “No.”

  Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “No? After everything I’ve alerted you to, in more than one infuriating conversation? Who do you think it is, if not her? The rest of us are sure she’s the one! Placed in our path as she was…Didn’t you sense it? Why else would you send her into the tavern? What in the world are you on about?”

  Alexi scowled, dropping into the seat opposite.

  Rebecca sighed. “Alexi, come now. Elijah spoke of how Miss Linden looked at you at the gala—as if she’d come home. I knew from the first that there was something powerful and fateful about her, but you’ve been nothing but rude. When you disappeared she was crestfallen. She said you seemed distracted. Where did you wander the night of the ball? If not Miss Linden, who in the world—?”

  Alexi warmed at the thought of Miss Parker’s face by moonlight, and foreign sensations wrestled in his stomach. “I was waltzing.”

  Rebecca snorted. “Ah, yes, that’s right. With whom?”

  “A girl far too unique to feel comfortable in that gaudy, flighty crowd. A girl who forsook the frivolous sparkle of chandeliers for the simple moonlight of the upper foyer.”

  Though Alexi attempted to remove the poetry from his voice, Rebecca was not fooled. “How popular you’ve become, Alexi. Who could have imagined?” She took a long breath and spoke through clenched teeth. “And so you yet place your bets upon Miss Parker.”

  “You should have told me about her the moment she stepped through our doors, rather than leaving me alone to think we’d enrolled a ghost,” Alexi reproached. “We should have used all our gifts to glean her information. Did your instincts not cry out when you met her?”

  Rebecca shrugged, unable to look at him. “A bit.”

  “A bit?” Alexi cried. “And you didn’t tell me? Rebecca, can I not trust you?”

  “For the love of God, did we not set boundaries?” she defended herself. “Need I remind you once again that she is a student? I don’t like this, Alexi; it is surely a trap as your goddess warned. And, how am I to keep this school running if you fail to obey the rules of propriety? I ought to fire you and expel her!”

  “Rebecca—”

  “You’re threatening everything we’ve worked so hard to create!”

  “I’m doing nothing but trying to determine Prophecy. It isn’t me who now has a problem talking about things—it’s you! There are forces that press our boundaries, however carefully and sensibly we might have placed them. Do you know Miss Parker’s full name, Rebecca?”

  “I do not recall. Shall I find out?” the headmistress asked, exasperated. “So you may send a bouquet?”

  “Persephone,” Alexi replied. “Persephone Parker.”

  “Persephone,” Rebecca repeated blankly.

  “Yes. Don’t you find that interesting?”

  “What, are we now looking for the bride of the underworld?”

  “Yes, since she was the one who appeared to us all those years ago.”

  Rebecca looked dubious. “You believe this because of all the references to the spirit world? You believe that is the reason we are here at Athens Academy, because a Greek goddess has entwined us in her mythology?”

  His friend was trying to make it sound absurd, but Alexi would have none of it. “Yes, of course—because it makes perfect sense! She bears our clue in her very name. That, and the phoenix pendant she wears about her neck.”

  Rebecca leaned back. “A phoenix?”

  “A pendant that burned her at the very moment I cried out for a sign the other night,” Alexi explained.

  Rebecca bit her lip. “It burned her? Couldn’t that be a sign of the opposite, actually warning us against her? And these coincidences, Alexi, however uncanny, are nothing. Not if there isn’t a door—the one
definite we were given in a host of damnable ambiguities. Aren’t you the one always counseling patience? I tell you, Alexi, we need more than a myth, a pale face and a pendant. And…the others are sure it’s Miss Linden.”

  “It isn’t up to the others.”

  “Alexi, we’re all in this—”

  “She’s mine to find!”

  “And ours to agree on!” Rebecca cried in response, her face reddening and her pitch rising. “Does Miss Parker know about any of this? About our work, and about the danger? Does she know that you’re pinning your hopes on an untried girl who’s a…On an untried girl, Alexi!”

  Alexi shook his head, glowering. “I’m more cautious than that. You of all people should know my code.” He rose and hovered over her. “But, Rebecca…she knew our incantation. She sang it to me. It came to her in her mind. She’s the one—our seventh. You’ll see that I’m right!”

  He wasn’t acting himself, and they both realized the fact. Rebecca just shook her head and said, “Alexi, the hour grows late. We’ve no time for games.”

  He sighed and, in a splay of dark fabric, collapsed into his chair. “Am I to have no support or encouragement from you? You, who are my oldest and dearest confidante?”

  His friend shook her head, an ache in her voice that almost matched the uncharacteristic pleading in his. “Alexi, I do not mean to be difficult. I am simply frightened of mistaking Prophecy. Please, do not entangle your heart,” she added. “It only will make matters worse. You need to give Miss Linden objective consideration. Remember your obligation!”

  “My obligation?” Alexi hissed. “What else have I ever thought of? Has there been a door?”

  “No, not yet. But—”

  “Then I’m not concerned. I believe what I believe.” A sudden frown furrowed his brow. “Rebecca, why are you so set on this woman when I’m so certain it is Miss Parker?”

  His friend’s eyes flashed. “Because, Alexi, as I’ve said more times than I wish to recall, Prophecy has nothing to do with you caring for our seventh, and—”