“It’s a different look, huh?” Jennie grinned. “I’m not sure I like the trousers.”
Baxter stared at her blankly.
“Pants.”
“Oh!” Baxter replied. “Oh, yeah. You guys call underwear ‘pants,’ don’t you? Surely they’re better for you than the leather stuff you wear usually?”
Jennie shook her head emphatically. “You’d think so, but no. Those clothes are what defines me. I don’t wear them for fashion, I wear them for utility and pain.”
Baxter frowned. “Pain?”
Jennie waved the conversation away. “Another story for another time. Ask Worthington if you need to know now.”
Baxter shuddered as he remembered the blinding flash of light that had come from the top floor of the Empire State Building as Worthington was exorcised by Sandra.
Jennie stopped and knocked on the packed earth wall beside her. “Yep. We’re here.”
Baxter’s nose wrinkled as he remembered where they were heading.
Option number two.
Kensington, London
The route back to the surface wasn’t as disgusting as Jennie had painted it to be. But it still wasn’t nice.
Baxter floated through the wall and checked that the coast was clear.
It was a customary thing. Since they were emerging into the men’s restroom, it was only polite for Baxter to ensure that even as a specter, Jennie would not see anything she didn’t want to see.
To his pain, the restroom wasn’t empty.
Two men sat doing their business in the stalls, and another stood and unleashed his bladder at the urinal.
Baxter waited.
And waited.
Finally, some fifteen minutes later, the men in the stalls finished and left the restroom of the old pub. Baxter floated back through the wall and gave Jennie a thumbs up.
Jennie latched onto Baxter and passed through the wall, remaining immaterial until she was safely outside of the restroom. When the coast was clear, she wandered through the pub, ignored by the breakfast crowd, and blinked into the sunshine outside.
The world was much noisier here. The nearby roads were packed with traffic, and the city was awake. Jennie checked her phone and saw that it was almost ten AM.
“Come on,” Jennie urged Baxter. “Let’s move fast.”
While they were likely safer the farther away from the palace they were, Jennie didn’t want to take any chances. She strolled with a determined purpose—which turned out to be perfect for blending in considering the majority of foot traffic around them was impatient Londoners marching through the streets.
Soon enough, they crossed a two-lane road and arrived at the open gates of the old cemetery.
“Wow, fancy!” Baxter marveled. “Even in death, your guys are taken care of.”
Jennie walked through the gates, following the gravel road that cut through the center of hundreds upon hundreds of marble headstones. They stood out in shades of white, gray, and black. Flowers decorated many of the gravestones, bringing color to the solemnity.
Baxter slowed to read the headstones, wondering what condition his own would be in. It had been years since he’d visited it, but he was sure it wouldn’t look like this.
Jennie continued straight on toward a large, white building in the center of the cemetery. When they reached the building, she skirted the outside and continued walking straight on through the graves.
“You know that’s disrespectful?” Baxter complained, wondering where Jennie was heading.
“That’s just mortal superstition,” Jennie retorted. “Believe me, there’s hardly a soul buried in this soil who will be in any way affected by us walking across the grass. Nearly all have either been set free or have moved to the great beyond.”
Baxter couldn’t help but notice Jennie’s subtle emphasis on “nearly.”
They left the newer, well-kept part of the cemetery behind. The farther they got from the building, the more overgrown and crumbling the graves became. Headstones were cracked or decorated with ivy, and some were nothing more than broken stumps in the ground.
They wandered through knee-high grass that hadn’t been stepped on in years.
Baxter wondered if the line of trees between the modern part and the older section were a deliberate attempt from the groundskeepers to hide the mess. The forgotten realms where no mortal would come to visit their dead again.
The trees closed around them. The grass here was reaching hip-height. Jennie made her way around the crumbled ruins of an old wall and pushed ivy aside to reveal the remnants of an old mausoleum, its roof long-since caved-in.
In the center of the ruins were several long, stone coffins with heavy lids. Baxter was reminded of the vampire movie he had watched over the shoulders of a couple of mortals one Halloween.
“We’re here for vampires?”
Jennie shook her head. “Vampires aren’t real.”
“How do you know?” Baxter countered. “There was a time when I thought ghosts weren’t real, yet here I am.”
Jennie bent toward the coffin and ran a hand along its top. “Vampirism is nothing more than a myth. Cult following and absurd rumors spread from accounts of people suffering from genuine diseases. Some believed the symptoms of tuberculosis were proof of vampires. People fear what they don’t understand, and believed the infected were drinking the blood of the living.”
Baxter’s face creased in distaste. “Gross.”
“Absolutely,” Jennie agreed. “Modern medicine has done enough to debunk any real theory that vampires exist. You know it as well as I do, we’ve made great progress in the twentieth and twenty-first century.”
“I suppose,” Baxter replied, still unconvinced. “We exist, though. So, surely there’s a possibility vampires could, too?”
Jennie didn’t answer. Instead, she closed her eyes and placed her palms flat on the coffin. The disturbing part was that the lids were not securely fastened to the container. Each one lay askew, revealing a thin slice of darkness even the sun was unable to penetrate.
“They’re close,” Jennie muttered.
Baxter looked around. As far as he was aware, they were alone, lost in the tangles of the cemetery. He realized he couldn’t hear the street traffic around the cemetery. He hadn’t noticed until that moment, but now that he was paying attention to his senses, he couldn’t hear birds, or planes, or anything else.
The quiet pressed upon them.
“Who are they?” Baxter asked, his hands moving instinctively toward his weapons.
Jennie smiled. “Hopefully, the people who are going to help us.”
“Specters?” Baxter inquired.
Jennie gave a half-shrug. “Of a sort.” She stood up straight, kept her eyes closed, and spread her arms wide as she sent out a tendril of energy to connect to Baxter.
“Er, what are you doing?” Baxter asked, feeling her pull on his energy.
“Scanning,” Jennie replied simply. She turned a circle on the spot, humming as she did so.
A slight chill began to creep around them, which caused even Baxter in spectral form to shiver.
“This way,” Jennie called brightly, coming to a stop with her arms still out. She hopped over the coffins, then vaulted over the wall on the far side of the mausoleum and waded into the grass without waiting for Baxter.
After navigating more trees, they came to another mausoleum, this one far better kept than the one they’d left. The building was built on a hexagonal base with a large stone cross at the top of its roof. A dark marble door barred the entrance.
Jennie approached and pushed the door, her muscles taut as she heaved against the heavy stone.
It creaked open, and the smell of ancient air leaked out. Jennie smiled and clapped her hands as she walked inside.
“Wait!” Baxter hesitated as he eyed the stone carvings. “This building is older than the previous one. Why has this fared better against the elements?”
He was right. Compared to the oth
er building, this mausoleum looked unmarked, as though it had specifically been cared for by the groundskeeper, while the other had been left to ruin.
“They protect it,” Jennie told him. “Those who are dead and wish to be left that way. Only under the roof of their forebears can they remain forever together.”
Baxter gave a small nod, his face curdling. “Then we really are where I think we are?”
“That depends where you think we are.” Jennie smiled as if they were simply walking to the shops to grab some candy.
Baxter swallowed. A single word escaped his mouth. “Wraiths.”
Jennie leaned out of the doorway, grabbed Baxter’s hand, and dragged him inside.
Chapter Sixty
Westminster, London
Things grew more complicated the closer Carolyn, Lupe, and Feng Mian got to Buckingham Palace.
They did their best to keep an eye out on the city whilst enjoying the sights. Even Lupe got into the spirit when they approached the London Eye and saw the large wheel slowly revolving.
Carolyn begged to go on the ride, but the queue was far too long. Even if Carolyn and Feng Mian boarded the pods, Lupe would have to either queue for several hours or hang around and wait for the half-hour ride to end. Not only that, but they saw several official-looking specters standing by the Eye, as well as others stationed on the roofs around it.
Lupe marked them on his map and after a heated discussion between him and Carolyn that made the mortals gave him a wide berth, they carried on along the riverbank.
Over the course of the afternoon, they saw Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, and the Victoria Tower Gardens. Carolyn commented several times about how she wished she had a camera to capture the moment and convinced Lupe to take several selfies on his phone, forgetting until afterward that she wouldn’t be visible in any of them.
When they reached St James’s Park, they felt the atmosphere change. Whereas the specters they had seen around the Eye were mostly enthusiastic tourists, they now spotted an increasing number of specters roaming the park in watchful silence.
Lupe took a seat on a bench that overlooked the lake. He marked several more Xs on his map and was alarmed to see they were a little under a kilometer from the palace.
“The queen really has the place surrounded, doesn’t she?” Carolyn whispered as she sat down beside him and tried to look nonchalant.
Feng Mian stood beside the bench and squinted in the sunlight, eyes scanning the faces of the nearby specters. “Are they all definitely hers?”
Lupe wasn’t sure how he could tell, but he felt they were. After twenty minutes or so of observing, he noted that several pairs of specters were walking in short laps around sections of the park. Many of them eyed the three of them with suspicion, mumbling to their partners as they walked.
One pair passed directly by them again. By the third pass, Carolyn hackles began to rise. The specters, a man with a length of stubble covering his face and a pair of dark sunglasses, and a woman wearing a cocktail dress and uncomfortably high heels, turned their heads toward them as they passed and gave them a long stare.
“We should go,” Lupe murmured. “I don’t like this.”
“Did you mark them all off?” Feng Main asked.
Lupe nodded, then rose from the bench and walked back toward the river. He felt many pairs of eyes watching them as they left.
As they reached the borders of the park, Lupe took a right past Downing Street, the home of the Prime Minister, then took a left.
Lupe walked briskly with Carolyn and Feng Mian flanking him.
Carolyn risked a glance over her shoulder. “They’re following us,” she whispered.
“Who?” Lupe moved to turn his head.
“Don’t turn,” Carolyn hissed. “It’ll raise suspicion.”
Lupe clenched his jaw. “How do we lose them?”
“We walk faster,” Feng Min told them.
After passing through Parliament Square, the river Thames appeared before them. The afternoon was turning late, and there were mortals everywhere as they began to cross Westminster Bridge and slipped into the streams of pedestrians passing in both directions.
Carolyn kept glancing back to check on the pair following them. “Keep moving. We can lose them if they can’t see us.”
“Genius,” Lupe commented.
“Feng Mian, duck your head,” Carolyn instructed, hunching to lose herself in the crowd. “Lupe’s small enough to hide, but we’re like beacons to them.”
Feng Mian walked in a slight crouch while they walked through the crowd. Lupe had to weave around the mortals, which slowed their progress. Carolyn risked another quick look when they reached the other side of the bridge.
“They gone?” Lupe asked.
Carolyn relaxed slightly. “Yes. Although I don’t know how long for. Come on, let’s duck inside somewhere.”
Lupe ran across the street toward the entrance of a pub, making a note to mark off several specters standing on the nearby rooftops when they finally had a chance to stop.
“This is insane,” Carolyn hissed. “They’re absolutely everywhere.”
The map was spread on the table before them. There was an explosion of red Xs covering the areas they had visited that day, the markings only making up a sixth of the area surrounding the palace.
“Good thing they don’t know who we are, isn’t it?” Carolyn added. “Otherwise, we’d really be fucked.”
“It’s not like they won’t already be suspicious,” Lupe reminded her. “Conduits aren’t common. If they saw us talking, they’re going to start to wonder who I am.”
Carolyn looked down at the map, looking at the landmarks they had visited. While it was great to finally see the things she had always wanted to see in life, now that the excitement had worn off, she began to feel a little guilty at being too carefree.
“It’s okay,” Lupe reassured her, sensing her change in mood. “We just be a bit more careful, that’s all. What we know is that the closer to Buckingham Palace we go, the more specters there are on patrol.” He put his head in his hands and sighed. “I don’t know how we’re going to sneak past everyone. There’s no way in hell we’re going to get to the queen. She’s too well-guarded.”
“Oh, come on,” Carolyn told him sternly. “If anyone can do it, it’s Jennie and us. There has to be a way past them, right?”
Lupe looked up from the canopy of his hands. “We were still at least a kilometer away from the palace when we saw all those specters. Do you really think that inside the palace won’t be even more guarded? If that’s what it’s like outside, then the inside is going to be crammed wall-to-wall with specters.”
“Really?” Carolyn sighed.
“Think about it,” Lupe continued. “I’ve only been involved in the spectral world for a few months, and I’d heard of Rogue before she’d even arrived. Her legend is known worldwide, specters quake before her. You really think the queen won’t have her best protection inside to stop Jennie from marching in and destroying her?”
Lupe fell quiet as a barman swept by and collected his empty glass. He offered another beer, and Lupe accepted.
Carolyn waited until the man walked away. “Is that what Jennie wants to do? She wants to kill the queen?” she asked in a near-whisper.
Feng Mian slowly shook his head and spoke. “Jennie does not have murder in her heart. She does not allow her emotions to conflict with justice. She will find the truth and act accordingly. The spectral world will not thank and bow easily to a murderer.”
Carolyn laughed. “Then they’re going to love hearing about what Worthington has been up to on the queen’s behalf in the last week.”
“He’s right,” Lupe told Carolyn. He waited for the barman to place his beer down and leave before continuing. “If she kills the queen, who’s left to take control of the Crown? There’ll be anarchy in the spectral kingdom. Riots. War. It’s too great a risk to disrupt the only anchor holding everything toget
her.”
“But what about America?” Carolyn asked. “Jennie had no qualms disrupting the status quo there.”
“It’s different here,” a voice behind them answered. “Things are a lot more ingrained in our history.”
Lupe almost knocked the table over as he jumped to his feet.
Two spectral heads poked through the wall, a hanging set of stag antlers between them.
Carolyn glared at the pair, instantly recognizing them as the specters who had walked by them at St James’s Park.
The specter in the cocktail dress grinned. “You were not easy to track down.”
Piccadilly Circus, London
George was uneasy as he stood on the roof of the Royal Academy of Arts and watched the people walking beneath him.
He had managed to make it back to his station before anyone noticed he was missing. While Kershaw could be intimidating at the best of times, he was trusting of his men. That made this part a lot easier.
George’s thoughts swirled with conflict about everything Rogue had told him. He had gone through various stages of belief and disbelief, and now he wasn’t sure where he stood on the whole ordeal.
She wouldn’t lie. She’s never once lied to me.
But did he know that for certain? Could Rogue have been lying all along?
No. Of course not. I’ve lived my entire life around people who lie professionally, and even they have their tells. One way or another, a liar could be sniffed out, and Rogue had only ever been kind and honest with George.
Not that that helped to resolve the conflict. His knowledge bore down on his chest like a bout of severe indigestion. He hadn’t experienced the discomfort of an unsettled digestive tract since his death and hadn’t missed the sensation one bit. If what Rogue had told him was true, then he had chosen the wrong side. Had dived in at the deep end in death and was trapped.
Or was he?
That had caught his attention—a potential truth that could unravel the very existence of the paranormal court and everything it stood for. If Rogue was right, and oaths were nothing more than a method to control the masses, then perhaps there was a chance that he wouldn’t be tied to the darkness forever.
Rogue, Renegade And Rebel (In Her Paranormal Majesty’s Secret Service Book 1) Page 45