The Strangely Beautiful Tale of Miss Percy Parker

by Leanna Renee Hieber

  “I remember when I taught you this dance. You were twelve,” Alexandra said softly. “What an irony now, eh? I’m so lonely, Alexi. I don’t know how much longer I can carry on.”

  He pressed his cheek to his sister’s hair and replied softly, “I know, dear. I understand. I always have.”

  “Not now, dear, you don’t. Not now that you have her,” Alexandra countered. There were tears in her eyes, but she was smiling. “She is gentle and strange, Alexi…but charming. How those unbelievable eyes glitter for you!”

  “I do not have her, Alexandra. You must not make such assumptions. And I shall forever understand loneliness,” Alexi replied.

  “Let’s not speak of it. Simply dance with me.”

  As they silently moved around the floor, Alexi, as he often did, indulged in regret that his sister had been struck down so many years prior, that her paralysis and his grandmother’s passing were both somehow his fault. It was as if all evil in the spirit world had swung a warning paw that day, reminding him that no one close to him could ever truly be safe. No one but Prophecy.

  Had he just cursed the sweet and gentle Percy Parker by bringing her into all this? Would she grow as frightened of him as his parents, who sensed something they’d never confronted? No. She was fated to be involved. Fearless. She was Prophecy. She had to be.

  The disk bumped and scratched, the waltz complete. Alexi and his sister continued moving in the hissing absence of music for countless moments, unaware and unconcerned, but then, as gently as he had lifted her, Alexi returned her carefully to rest. There was a rustle of taffeta and a squeak of the wooden wheelchair.

  Sensing another’s eyes, Alexi looked over to behold Percy watching him, her face aglow and her cheeks glistening with tears. The moment she was spied, however, she ducked out of sight. Alexi smirked. “Good night, Alexandra.” Then he climbed the stairs, tingling with anticipation for what waited above.

  Catching sight of Percy standing wide-eyed in the hall, dressed in a flattering satin nightdress that Isabel must have procured for her, he moved forward, gently wiping away her tears. “My dear, what’s this?” he asked, ignoring how utterly unheard of it was for him to see her in such a state of dishabille. Percy didn’t seem to think of it, either.

  “You are so beautiful, Alexi!” she sobbed.

  With a warm little laugh, he opened his arms and Percy fell into them. His embrace closed around her and wrapped tight. Numerous moments passed as they slid closer and closer, their arms entwining and their palms pressing tight until there was no space left and they were helplessly and indecorously locked. Alexi became keenly aware of the fact that she was only wearing a nightdress, and he was quite sure no layers of clothing would have been able to conceal his body’s reaction.

  It would be so easy, to whisk her into one of the rooms, part her robe and gaze upon that snow-white flesh again, to worship it as the light of the moon itself, to unleash years of pent-up passion upon that marble body, to take, to claim, to seize and devour Prophecy as his own. It was his right; he had been denied it all his life and—

  Perhaps she sensed his burning thoughts, for she pulled back, daring to look up and see the fire raging in his eyes. “Alexi,” she began. “I lo—”

  He suddenly reeled backward as if struck. Percy did not get the chance to complete her declaration. His hands flew to his head, as if he was in great pain.

  “Alexi!” she murmured, frightened.

  “Something’s wrong,” he muttered, sinking down to the floor, rubbing his temples. Percy recalled the night of the ball and how he had been called away by the same reaction. He looked up at her sadly. “My dear Percy. I hope soon you and I may…indulge,” he said carefully, his jaw clenching, his eyes still flickering with desire. “But I fear for my friends. I must return to London. You must stay here in safety.”

  “But—”

  Alexi reached out and clasped her hands in his. “I don’t dare return you to the eye of the storm, Percy; it may not be safe for you. I’ll come for you in the morning. There’s nothing else to discuss. I must go.”

  Confused and exhausted, Percy could only dumbly nod, helping him as he rose shakily to his feet. His face pinched with pain and anxiety, he bounded down the stairs and called for his sister. Percy glided halfway down to listen to their conversation.

  “I must be off to London again, Alexandra. I’m sorry…”

  “Already? Why, you’ve barely had time for a breath!”

  “I wish for nothing more than to stay, but there is something, perhaps something dangerous—”

  “Yes, yes, you and your mad work. I ought to be used to it.”

  “You must do me a favor. You must hide Percy here tonight. I fear it isn’t safe for her where I’m going, and I can’t risk returning her to the school. I’ll come for her again in the morning. Is there space for her?”

  “There’s always a room prepared, Alexi. Don’t worry…”

  Alexi gathered his cloak, hat and a small black book Percy didn’t recognize, and darted back to find her on the stairs. Bounding up a few steps at a time, he swept her into his arms and buried his mouth against her neck, searing it with kisses. “I know I shouldn’t, but I cannot help myself,” he murmured against her throat as she gasped in pleasure. “Await me here and stay safe. I won’t be long.”

  As he pulled back, Percy was struck by a terrifying thought. “Alexi…I’m not bringing this danger on you, am I?”

  He smiled wearily. “Oh no, dear girl. It was brought on centuries ago. An old vendetta, between two antique creatures, that’s still playing out in our dreary little lives. Mortals made pawns by immortals—isn’t it terrible? But soon, my dear, we’ll settle the score. You and I.”

  Percy tried to smile through her confusion, but it came out more a worried grimace.

  Alexi seized her neck and moved in as if to kiss her goodbye, then groaned as his head pounded with a fresh, searing pain. Back in London, things were grim.

  “Go, Alexi,” Percy said softly, kissing him on the cheek and ushering him to the landing below. “And know that I—”

  “I know, Percy,” he said. Then he hastily turned and darted out the door before either of them could exchange a vow, was on his horse and tearing off down the countryside. There was work to be done before he could rejoice in her coming. He would not let Prophecy be tainted by premature declarations.

  The sign they had been waiting nineteen years to see was now floating over the western lane of Trafalgar Square. The sign. The most important sign. Prophecy. It was a dark rectangle with a dim interior, much like the portal that opened when their meetings commenced in the chapel. But this one they had not made themselves, and none of The Guard was quite sure what was happening.

  The canine abomination turned, ignoring his supine prey and staring instead at the portal. There was a sound—an unfamiliar, halting sound bellowed from a female throat. The monster’s ears perked up, and it bowed its head in subordination. The Guard next beheld the beautiful Miss Linden, her arms outstretched, power radiating from her in a stunning manner, her beautiful face suddenly terrible in its ferocity. The beast broke into a thousand hound clouds and vanished in a yelping flurry through the door. The portal crumbled into nothingness an instant later.

  Miss Linden shuddered and stumbled forward with a cry of pain, as if shaking loose the effects of poison. After a moment she raised her head again, her face once more noble and beautiful. She stared at the others and offered them an exhausted yet winning smile.

  “I fancy a drink. How about all of you?”

  Reeling from the evening’s events, Percy wasted no time in falling into the bed Isabel had shown her. But, just as she was drifting off, a spirit floated through the wall and drifted close.

  The entrance of spirits into her rooms was such a usual part of Percy’s life that it never startled her. And she didn’t always acknowledge them, because she couldn’t handle conversing with them all. But this elegant old woman, dressed in fine clothing
dated a few decades prior—dark heavy fabrics with high collars and puffed sleeves—seemed intent on speaking with Percy, for she was staring down at her fiercely. She looked familiar.

  “Zdravstvuyte,” the old woman said, greeting her in Russian.

  “Zdravstvuyte,” Percy replied. “Ochen priyatno.”

  “Lovely to meet you, too, dear girl, but listen close, I’ve only a moment,” the woman continued, still in Russian. “The firebird has come for you and you alone, child. I’ve been watching. Tell my grandson that he mustn’t be fooled by the tricks of snakes. Tell him he needs to use fire to banish the darkness. His fire. It is the only way.”

  Percy recalled Alexi mentioning his grandmother was Russian. She didn’t understand what the old woman meant, but she nodded in compliance, anyway. Alexi’s grandmother nodded curtly back and vanished.

  With a sigh, Percy tried drifting off to sleep, but she was restless with the barking that distantly rang in her ears. At last she attempted a prayer: “Dear Lord, please help me solve a few riddles before receiving new ones. And bring my beloved safely back to me.” She pressed her phoenix pendant—her fi rebird—to her breast. She now believed the symbol meant Alexi. If so, then he was here with her, even in his absence. In fact, he always had been. She had to find a way to make sure he always would be, no matter the dangers ahead.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Teacups rattled on saucers at La Belle et La Bête, which was closed to everyone but an exhausted, nervous group of six, their jaws set and expressions stern. Rebecca and Josephine sat adjusting their clothing. Jane first healed everyone’s wounds, cuts and bruises, then went on to mend her torn sleeve, and she was now moving with an air of obsession to mend her female companions’ bustles and skirts. Elijah and Michael left their shirtsleeves in tatters.

  “You must think me mad for having burst upon you like that,” Miss Linden laughed, finally daring to break the silence.

  “After the events of this evening, which of us would dare?” Elijah replied. When he snickered, the woman tilted her head in demure appeal.

  “How did you find us, and then, how did you do what you did?” Rebecca asked.

  Miss Linden paused, taking care with her words. “An unmistakable taste in my mouth occurs when something is…I could taste something amiss. And it’s not yet right.”

  “Ye made that…thing retreat. We must know how,” Jane demanded.

  Miss Linden shrugged. “All my life I’ve been plagued with strange company. Ghastly, nightmarish creatures, such as that one, are familiar. I’ve encountered all manner of the inexplicable.”

  Jane gaped. “A beast such as that? Here in England?”

  “Your group must be a magnet for troubled souls,” Miss Linden proposed. “But this was no mere troubled soul. No, when I speak of encountering other such nightmares, I speak of my time abroad, where there are many such creatures—forces of nature, really, things you’ve only heard of in myth.” She paused as the group nodded in amazement. “Forgive me, but where is that unmistakable professor of yours? Shouldn’t he be here?”

  “We’ve been pondering that all evening,” Rebecca replied. “We were in need of him.”

  Miss Linden looked troubled. “Indeed, how surprising! Elijah told me you were inseparable. I confess that I hoped to see him—his presence would have put me at ease.”

  “Is that so?”

  Miss Linden blushed. “I mean to say…”

  “Yes, yes, he has a calming effect upon most people.” Elijah snorted.

  Placing the glass of wine she held tightly in her hand upon the table, Rebecca leveled her gaze once again upon their savior. “Professor Rychman is currently…preoccupied with other business.”

  Miss Linden’s green eyes flashed. “The pale girl,” she blurted. “He’s with that ghost of a girl, isn’t he?”

  Jane and Michael looked confused, but Elijah and Josephine exchanged speculative glances. Rebecca gritted her teeth. The two Restoration wraiths in the corner ducked their heads together to gossip.

  “Perhaps,” Rebecca finally replied. “He thinks her of great importance.”

  “I met her,” Miss Linden murmured.

  “Yes, I imagine. Your impression?”

  “I would not be so bold as to conjecture about someone whom I know so little—”

  “I ask only for your impression, Miss Linden.”

  “Well,” the woman began hesitantly, “I’m not sure she is as unassuming as she pretends. She seemed to wish to challenge me. I tell you, something is—”

  “Rotten in the state of Denmark,” Michael muttered.

  “Yes,” was Miss Linden’s reply.

  Glances and nods were exchanged among The Guard. The Restoration wraiths in the corner seemed to hold their breath.

  “Perhaps we can make it right, my dear Miss Linden,” Elijah declared, rising from the table.

  “Please, call me Lucille.”

  “I suppose the saving of lives does indeed invite familiarity,” he replied. “Do you trust us, Lucille?”

  “Implicitly. Though I cannot claim any intimacy by right, I…I feel I belong here. With you,” she suggested eagerly. “We must stick together, our kind.”

  “Our kind? Have you met others like us?” Josephine asked.

  “Never,” Miss Linden responded in earnest. “I’ve been looking all my life for people like you. I feel as though my soul has seen centuries, and all for this purpose.”

  The Guard looked around at one another. There was a door, and here was the reason for it. Something had to be said at last.

  Rebecca cleared her throat. “Do you believe in prophecies, Lucille?”

  “Why do you ask? Have you had one?”

  “Yes, one heralded the coming of a friend to join our ranks, to aid in coming battles of this world we seek to keep at peace.”

  “This friend, then…You feel it is I?” Lucille asked, breathless. As The Guard rustled in their chairs, she laughed suddenly, joyfully. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. To matter. To finally be a part of something important. Surrounded by so many strange forces all my life, overshadowed by them at every turn—to now have you as my own, and that ineffable Rychman, is my dream come true!”

  “Have you spoken such impassioned sentiments to him?” Rebecca asked.

  Lucille shook her head. “While I sense he is fascinated by me, he’s been unwilling to reveal anything. A careful, guarded man, he keeps his secrets well. A capable leader.”

  “Save for abandoning us tonight,” Elijah muttered.

  “An inscrutable man with many reasons for his actions, I’ve no doubt,” was Lucille’s reply.

  Jane piped up, her infamous disinterest melting. “Ye take his side, Miss Linden. It’s nice to see he has a supporter.”

  “Or an admirer,” Josephine corrected. Lucille coloured and stared at the table.

  “And, the door,” Jane continued softly. “Have ye ever opened a portal to the spirit world before?”

  Lucille blinked.

  “It’s what our prophecy hinges upon,” Rebecca clarified.

  “Oh. Well, doors between this world and the next have always sort of…followed me,” Lucille replied. “I wish I knew why. Perhaps this is my answer.”

  Rebecca rose and grabbed her by the elbow. “May I have a private word with you, Miss Linden?”

  “Secrets, Rebecca?” Michael chided.

  “Hush.” Rebecca batted a hand in the air and drew Lucille into the alcove by the door. “Please forgive the strange manner in which we speak here.”

  “I assure you, I’ve dealt in odder exchanges.”

  “Indeed? Then, if I may be so bold, allow me ask you something private,” Rebecca said.

  “Anything.”

  “Do you feel that Alexi Rychman may have a very…personal place in your destiny?”

  The woman stared into her eyes, and Rebecca could not describe the calming power those emerald irises possessed; Miss Linden’s presence was an odd yet exciting bal
m. “I am certain, Miss Thompson, that my destiny involves him. I believe he is my destiny—even if he, at this point, does not share my conviction. He is a careful man, as you know, and very wise—”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “For a mortal,” Lucille finished.

  Rebecca’s lips thinned, and for a moment she was taken aback. “Why, Miss Linden, are you not mortal?”

  Lucille’s eyes flashed. “Sadly, I am. Yet I feel like so much more.”

  Rebecca nodded and the two shared a smile of understanding. “Indeed, I know that feeling well.”

  Lucy’s eyes narrowed, as if she was considering the merits of asking a specific question. After a moment, she summoned the courage. “Since we are displaying the fullest candour, Miss Thompson…the professor’s eyes, they burn for something, but not for me. Why do you ask me about my feelings on this topic?”

  Rebecca sighed. “Alexi believes that our prophecy has an…intimate element. He’s wrong. It was never directly said to be so. But, he’s so damn stubborn. In his mind, the woman who fulfills Prophecy will be…”

  Lucille drew in a long breath. “His?”

  Rebecca nodded, grimacing.

  “Oh, my,” Lucille murmured. “How exciting.” Then her powerful gaze clouded. “But he thinks the answer lies in that ghost girl!”

  Rebecca nodded, knowing full well the snow-white creature who had claimed Alexi’s attentions. “I am afraid so.”

  “How can I convince him?” Lucille asked.

  “Convince him of what?”

  “To love me instead!”

  Rebecca blinked. “Well…that’s just it; you don’t have to. Alexi is misled on that point, making all of this more complicated—”

  “But I’d like him to. All I’ve ever wanted is to be loved.”

  Rebecca pursed her lips. “Indeed.”

  “And I must tell you,” Lucille continued. “I’ve seen that girl. I fear for you if you keep her near.”

  Rebecca scoffed. “Come now. She’s a timid girl, hardly a threat—”

  Lucille shook her head. “I have seen what you do to spirits. She’s much of one, herself, I fear. Too much to be trusted.” Leaning in, she whispered, “Recently, when you took me to the professor, that girl was clearly threatened by my presence. Could she not have been sent from the realm of your enemies? That guise of timidity, her awkward isolation—these things cause her to appear harmless. But if she is not a mortal, if something else has taken hold in that body and causes that odd pallor…she could do a deal of harm. But forgive me, I prattle on! How presumptuous—”