The Darkly Luminous Fight for Persephone Parker (5 page)

“But why did none of you say?” Josephine murmured. “We could have helped each other—”

Beatrice held up a hand. “Our tongues were literally shackled. Our powers gone. Our work done. When you arrived, we were again normal citizens. You see, two Guard are never in the same city. It has never happened like this, there has never been a Prophecy as such, the goddess, Our Lady, never took such a chance as this. It is an unprecedented time. An unprecedented future is before us. And the next phase of battle is at hand.” Percy’s heart sank as she translated.

“Haven’t we fought enough?” Michael murmured.

“It’s just begun,” the spirit replied. “The Whisper-world is a hazardous place, and war must be brought into your mortal hands to settle the score once and for all.” Here Beatrice looked at Percy, which did not go unnoticed.

“And this secondary score commences when?” Alexi asked coolly. “And how may we avoid it? I’ll not put my bride anywhere near further danger.”

Beatrice fixed him with a deep stare, profound sadness on her face. “You know as well as I that there’s no avoiding this. We were bound to serve vengeful gods.” She turned with a look that was neither amenable nor even kind as Percy repeated her words, breathless, shrinking from that withering
stare. “Tell me something, my lady.” Beatrice leaned in, narrowing her eyes. “Do you remember anything of your former existence—the one you relinquished to become what you are now?”

“No,” Percy answered, recalling that Alexi had once posited the same question. “I am no divinity.
Please,
I’m flesh and blood and don’t understand what’s happened to me or why, so please don’t expect knowledge of a woman I never was, a woman I’m not,” she blurted, visibly shaking as she clutched the tablecloth. Alexi stilled this by placing his hand atop hers.

Beatrice sighed, and her hard stare softened.

“Then you, too, are nothing more than a pawn.” Her piercing gaze found the rest of The Guard. “But we’ve a duty, friends, to free your fellows overtaken by Darkness’s vengeance. You’ve a call to arms. The sooner you take to it, the sooner this damnable business will end. My part will begin past purgatory’s walls. When it’s time, you’ll do yours.”

Percy tried to mitigate Beatrice’s tone. It was familiar, though, a quality she recognized in her betrothed. Perhaps leaders shared a certain profile.

“And shall we simply intuit our parts?” Alexi hissed. “Query destiny until she unfolds herself, or deign you to give us a bit of direction, Mrs. Tipton?”

“Do what I tell you, when I tell you,” the spirit replied, folding her arms.

As Percy repeated this, Alexi straightened in his chair. “Indeed? Well, to my knowledge, I remain the leader.” Blue sparks crackled around him, a spire of blue flame in his palm. “And I’m going on a honeymoon, and neither you nor the Whisper-world can change that. I’ll fight if I must, but good God give us a
moment’s
peace.”

Beatrice eyed Percy bitterly, then Alexi, but her voice belied profound emotion. “Of course,” she murmured. “Marry her. Celebrate love while you have the chance. Treasure it, please, for life is oft gone before it’s even begun.”

Percy blushed and turned to Alexi. “We’re to marry and celebrate love. Treasure it, even.”

Alexi’s hand tightened over hers, and he addressed their visitor. “Mrs. Tipton, that’s the first sensible thing you’ve said.”

Beatrice smirked, and for a moment the two leaders’ expressions were oddly similar. “I’ve work to do, regardless,” she replied, “so consider yourself lucky to gain that time. I must work from the inside out. But you mustn’t be gone long.” The spirit retreated into the shadows, that damp grey darkness stretching out behind her into what seemed eternity. There came a sound of weeping and water. It was not a place Percy wished to visit.

The ghost came forward again, weary, conflicted. “Lady Percy, don’t repeat this: I know the importance of trusting the family fate gave you, but as you’ve seen, no one, not even these fine people, are infallible.
Our
Heart, Ahmed, was a torrent of visions. None of us could keep up with him, not even you—what you were then—so nobody knew if he spoke truth or madness. But, he warned of betrayals from people dearly close, so…do be careful. In the end, Miss Parker, you’re the key to everything. It’s your duty to protect yourself. No one here would intentionally harm you, but betrayals are always a part of great prophecies, aren’t they?” She rallied a meek smile and murmured, “I’ll see you soon. Try not to be afraid. Trust your heart. And don’t refuse when called.”

The ghost turned again to the darkness, lifted her shoulders as if steeling herself, took a deep breath and vanished. A lingering chill slid across the table as the portal shrank away.

Alexi was looking at Percy expectantly. “And?”

Percy stared at her companions, all of whom were looking at her with hope, warmth and anxiety. Of all the times in her life, she had never felt safer than here with her beloved
among these new friends. She could choose fear and to anticipate danger around every corner, or she could choose to boldly trust the bonds her heart had so long yearned for. The choice was easy.

“She said not to fear, to trust my heart. And I tell you, this morning, that my heart is with all of you—and I hope you will entrust yours to me in return.”

Everyone smiled brightly, especially Michael. Alexi bent close to graze her temple with his lips and, as no one knew what else to say, the conversation turned to the more cheerful talk of a wedding.

“Mrs. Rychman and I shall take time also,” Alexi said, “to adjust her to the estate of which she will be mistress. I trust you all to keep order. I expect no communication until a week has passed, after which Percy and I would ask you dine at our estate.”

The intimate isolation of which he spoke, the word “wife” and the thought of sharing an estate with him, sounded incredible to Percy’s ears, one of her hazy classroom daydreams. Only the sound of her teacup against its saucer and the thrilling press of Alexi’s hand upon her knee convinced her otherwise. She belonged to a peculiar destiny, and to this man seated next to her. She’d always wished to belong.

The group quit the table for coffee. Rebecca and Alexi rose in unison. She touched his elbow, and he immediately drew her into an adjoining, oak-paneled hallway. Percy stood frozen, blinking after the retreating figures, and she felt a sudden, surprising flare of jealousy. Would Alexi forever be at the bidding of Headmistress Thompson? Then she chided herself for being foolish. Alexi and the headmistress were her superiors, and she must respect stations established years before, regardless of the fact that Alexi was hers.

Her new friends were close at hand. Jane showed Percy into the withdrawing room and bade her sit on a sumptuously brocaded pouf. Josephine tossed a nonchalant nod
toward Rebecca and Alexi and said, “You mustn’t mind them. They’re always sidling off into deep discussion, and have for years.”

“Is that so?” Percy said.

“Without her and Alexi’s strength,” Jane assured, “we’d never outlast the spirits we battle.”

“Of course.” Percy nodded. “I have always admired the headmistress’s obvious strength of character. In fact, I was always quite intimidated by her.”

“We all have been,” Josephine confided, taking up the role of hostess and passing out coffee from Molly’s silver tray. “Between her and Alexi, we’re never at a loss for intensity.”

“Indeed,” Percy murmured. “Oh! When I first met Alexi…”

“Terrify you, did he?” Jane smirked.

“Yes!”

Josephine laughed. “Don’t tell him that, he’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Yes, he did.” Percy grinned.

“When did it stop?” Josephine asked. “Your terror?”

Percy thought a moment. “I’d fled alone into a dark foyer at the academy ball, too nervous to be seen.” Her voice dropped, and the women leaned closer. “But Alexi sought me out, waltzed with me in moonlight to an echo of music. I was lost to him forever.” She blushed and looked at the floor. Jane sighed dreamily.

“Mon Dieu!”
Josephine exclaimed. “We must procure you a wedding dress!”

“Oh!” Percy quaked. “What does one wear?”

“Leave that to me,” Josephine assured her. “You’ll have something fit for a goddess!”

Delight was reflected in Josephine’s eyes, but Percy saw wistfulness, too. “Weddings,” the Frenchwoman murmured. “They are beautiful things. Everyone should have one.”

“You’re very beautiful,” Percy offered, when Jane reached out a hand and squeezed Josephine’s, blushing. “I’m sure you’ll have no trouble—”

“Oh, but Josephine likes trouble,” Jane said, earning a sideways glance from the other woman. “Besides, this fate…limits our options.”

Indeed, Percy thought, shifting awkwardly in her seat; none of these people were married. Because they were following the bidding of spirits and gods. And here she was, the young newcomer, up and marrying their leader, her professor. It was a lot to take in.

“Is there anyone we must not hesitate to invite?” Josephine asked, her melancholy gone.

Percy’s hand flew to her mouth. “My God, my dearest Marianna! With no one to vouch for my whereabouts, heaven only knows what she’ll think!”

“A matter for the headmistress.” Josephine slipped into the hall and motioned for Rebecca to join them.

Alexi and Rebecca both rounded the corner, and Alexi’s eyes went right to Percy, as if he’d known her exact location even through the wall. Jumping up, Percy offered him the seat by her side and darted to procure him coffee. He smiled broadly. She was unaccustomed to his smile, as he had always furrowed his brow at her before, scowling and brooding. So enthralling was the sight, she nearly spilled his cup. Alexi thanked her and bestowed a lingering kiss upon her cheek; Percy reddened, fell into her seat and nearly dumped both their coffees.

The headmistress darted to a writing desk in the corner. “Of course, I should’ve thought to send word to Miss Farelei—my apologies, Miss Parker.” Procuring a fountain pen and paper, she began scrawling. “I shall say you are well in health and shall return to the grounds this afternoon. Elijah,” she called as she went to the window. “May I open the casement for a bit of business?”

“Yes, dear,” the other drawled over his coffee, moving to lock the room’s sliding doors to prevent intruders.

Rebecca opened the beveled glass panel and loosed a low whistle. An impressive black raven with something glittering on its breast fluttered onto the windowsill. “Frederic, Athene Hall please,” the headmistress said to the bird, who obediently opened its beak for the paper, emitted a muffled squawk and flew off.

Elijah unlocked the doors again, to allow passage of the house staff, who were clearly not privy to the less-thanordinary aspects of the lives of The Guard. Percy herself had never dreamed the headmistress made pet of a raven, much less one who followed commands.

Jane leaned forward in her seat, grinning. “That’s Frederic. I’ve a cat, Marlowe. They’ve been frightfully useful.”

“I should say!”

Alexi patted her knee, enjoying her gaping astonishment.

It was then that the alarm sounded. Hands flew to temples and the company swayed on their feet. “Threadneedle Street. Luminous,” Alexi and Rebecca chorused. The Guard rose obediently.

“Couldn’t they give us a single day of respite?” Elijah muttered.

“Thank goodness, Percy,” Jane exclaimed, taking her by the arm and leading her to the door. “I thought these niceties would never end. Now you get to see us as we truly are.”

Josephine was clearly put out. “Could not they have waited until I was in less fine a dress?”

Percy allowed the whirlwind to happen around her and watched. She didn’t dare posit questions; it was clear that the practices of their odd calling were well established, and she didn’t want to seem the intrusive novice. Elijah fussed over Percy at the door, procuring blankets and a traveling cloak, thinking her still delicate and recovering from the previous evening’s exertions. Percy was gracious and, indeed, once she drew the curtains of the carriage so that the bright light didn’t hurt her eyes, quite comfortable.

The fine carriages of the Withersby estate ushered them expediently southbound. Alexi held Percy as their cab jostled into the city that grew denser and darker with each passing street. He watched her squint out the window. “Are you ready for new wonders?”

Percy chuckled nervously, turning and looking up at him. “Truthfully, I’d rather talk about the wedding. What’s happening at Threadneedle?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Not uncommon to find spiritual unrest in that general vicinity, centre of the city and all. There was a plague pit nearby.”

Percy shuddered, then voiced a sudden worry. “Could I have done more harm than good? Perhaps it’s that horrible woman coming for vengeance—”

“Hardly,” Alexi scoffed. “You reduced her to ashes. You saved the day, my dear, and none of us shall forget it.”

“You and the headmistress said ‘Luminous.’ What does that mean?”

“When something overtakes a human body—a possession with intent to harm—the bodies glow. When I first beheld you in my classroom, I thought as much of you.”

“Ah,” Percy said, recalling that first meeting. “But, Alexi…A possession requires exorcism.”

He paused. “Admirable institution, the Catholic Church,” he began, taking Percy’s white hand in his. “And if for some reason we were entirely indisposed, I imagine the rite suffices. But the most permanent solution lies in what you shall soon see.”

Percy shook her head. “And no one knows of you? Not the church? No one? How is this possible?”

“For that, you may in part thank Lord Withersby. He does have his uses. You’ll see.” Alexi pointed to a fine Tudorstyle town house. “Here.”

Percy turned her attention to the few random passersby. Some gazed around curiously, as if sensing something was wrong. All mortals had a certain capability to sense the unknowable, if few could actually see it. Six, it seemed, could truly affect it.

Once The Guard alighted from their respective carriages and the drivers were sent off, they linked hands on the street below and stared at the town house in question. Pale blue halos lit their bodies. When Alexi seized her hand, Percy felt a surge of energy blaze up her arm and into the core of her body. Elijah closed his eyes. He slipped a hand from Josephine’s and snapped his fingers. All the lingering and curious citizens wandered off, as if they’d not seen a thing out of the ordinary.

A fresh wind whipped the edges of Percy’s skirt and billowed Alexi’s cloak. The same bluish flame that had roused her from the brink of death now surrounded them in a sapphire circle. A strange, ancient harmony rose, as if the breeze had tuned strings for them. Alexi’s voice cut above it all, in a private command of peace. He then turned calmly to Rebecca.

“Third-floor den, top of the stairs,” the headmistress said. “Young male, catatonic. Luminous.”

“Thank you,” Alexi said, turning to Percy. “You, my dear, will remain directly behind me.” His fellows he told, “The rest as per custom.”

The company broke into formation, Alexi at the head, Michael directly at his side, Jane at the other. Percy furrowed her brow as the Irishwoman tied a leather apron around her waist that appeared stained with a dark substance of indiscernible origin. Alexi’s steady hand guided Percy behind him, Rebecca close beside. Josephine had slung a rectangular canvas bag over her shoulder and brought up the rear with Elijah, who was scouting for further passersby.

“Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more,” Alexi stated.

The house was charged. At the bidding of Michael’s upraised hand, doors swung open. They passed through the entrance foyer and up two grand sets of stairs, clearing befuddled maids with startled cries along the way. With calm waves, Elijah managed to send most lazing off with dumb expressions, lulling the tumult. The Guard tore into a fine room with carved cherry paneling from floor to ceiling. A long bar at one end, a wide hearth at the other, lush chairs and a few gaming tables sat sportingly in between. Ornate gaslight sconces burned low.

A pale young man lay crumpled and shuddering on the floor, in a disturbing state of disarray. Alexi directed a powerful gesture at him, and a cord of blue lightning shot forth. The twitching heap of a man groaned, rolling onto his back, and Percy heard a hiss the rest of the group could not.

Jane rushed forward, crossing herself. She lifted a hand glowing with healing light, her palm a small star. She touched the victim’s ashen face. His features were revealed as blood magically faded from his cheeks, unmatting from the place upon his crown where a gash mended beneath Jane’s fingertips. “Aren’t you a pretty one,” she murmured, having taken
his head onto her lap. Percy grimly realized the dark stains upon her apron were from similarly supernatural wounds.

Josephine strode the room, examining each wall as if measuring space. Rebecca took notes in a small book. Michael moved about, peering at his comrades as if determining symptoms. Elijah approached the subject upon the floor.

“What
is
that suit you’re wearing?” He bent over the body. “These nouveau riche. I can’t bear it. Excuse me, Miss Connor.” Making a face, Elijah bent closer and touched a fingertip to the gentleman’s nose. An odd shudder worked him back to his feet.

“Name?” Rebecca asked.

“Matthew Van Courtland. Dutch merchant. Textiles.” Elijah’s apparent disdain deepened. He stared down at the supine body. “Whatever are you doing in England, sir? You see, it hasn’t been amenable to you, has it? Why don’t you leave colonialism to us, thank y—”

“Nature of possession?” Rebecca curtly interrupted.

“I broke free,” the spirit cried. Percy winced, knowing she was the only one who could hear. “But there’s a black dawn coming for you, just like the black plague—but for your mind! You’ll ne’er be free. We’ll turn the tables on you, just wait.” Percy shuddered but said nothing.

Elijah slipped off one shoe and slid his foot beneath Van Courtland’s knee.

“Lazy,” Jane scoffed, batting at Elijah’s foot.

Withersby’s face twisted into something pale and helpless, and he wrested away with a growl. “Oh, and to waste such fine brandy!” He turned to face a long mahogany bar, where a decanter and tray of glasses lay broken on the floor in a pool of dark, pungent liquid.

“Well, our friend here seems to have escaped after last night’s melee. Most of the offenders were driven back to their proper place, thanks to Miss Percy, but this one managed to indulge his fancy for Van Courtland’s innards. He’s
right terrible, and took many a soul with him on his way to his mass black-death grave.” Noticing Percy out of the corner of his eye, he said, “Why, my dear Miss Parker, are you all right?” Everyone turned to stare at her, sunk upon a nearby stool. She supposed she looked as ill as she felt.

“You just wait,” the spirit gurgled, its voice wet from inside the mortal trappings of Van Courtland. “Wait and see what we’ll do to you when you’re dragged to the other side. Especially you who look just like us. I’m sure
special
treats await.”

Percy flared with righteous indignation. She turned to Alexi and tried to speak calmly. “He’s taunting, saying such things as would not befit a lady’s repetition. Be thankful you have deaf ears tonight, friends.” She waved a hand that they might not worry further over her.

Alexi turned. “In the presence of a lady? How dare you!” His hand issued a more powerful jolt, binding the victim in shackles of light. There was an immediate shift through Van Courtland’s skin, the spirit within struggling to pull free.

The sight was revolting, but Percy watched. Alexi’s sparking cords squeezed closer and closer, and she heard the spirit’s tirade become struggling gasps. Josephine opened her bag to reveal its contents: a small shimmering painting of an angel. Lifted out to hang upon the opposite wall, the image filled Percy with peace and joy all at once, and she felt the warmth of the phoenix pendant around her neck, flying upon the ruffled folds of her fine dress. Glancing down, she could see her pendant glowing with an empathetic light similar to that in the air here.

Josephine squinted, adjusted the corner of the frame and turned to kneel beside Jane. “Van Courtland,
mon chéri,
” she murmured near the man’s ear. “Do look at that image. It will soothe you, ease your troubled mind.” She had to force open his lids, but once he caught sight of the painting, his
eyes ceased their rolling dance of panic. “
Oui,
Matthew, focus. Your guardian angels are by your side, helping you fight. Now, you mustn’t remove this painting. It’s your guardian angel for life.” Her hand was stroking mousy brown hair from his temples. Percy couldn’t help noticing Elijah make a face.

With a small flutter of her fingertips, Jane countered the man’s convulsions, some of which brought either blood or bile trickling from his thin lips. His muscles unclenched and the fluids ceased, but the battle raged on within him. All the while, it was as if Alexi was drawing the slack from his illuminated threads of sapphire flame, binding his body partly like a weaver, partly like a conductor, constricting the terror with each deft movement, crushing the vehemence out of the terrible presence, light against the force of darkness.

Rebecca, secretarial duties sufficiently undertaken, returned pen and paper to her reticule. Her eyes closed then shot open, a pained breath escaping her. Michael was at once nearby, giving a soft, relaxing sigh. She gifted him with a genuine smile, all discomfort in her features vanishing.

“We must put it down as best we can, Alexi,” she said, catching her breath. “There’s nothing that it seeks in restlessness that it will not try to inflict by vengeance. It doesn’t want peace and so we must dispel it.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Alexi replied, picking up the tempo of his conduction. The spirit shrieked in Percy’s ears, and the fortitude of his vile proclamations was renewed.

“Bind,” Alexi called. The group formed a circle, save Jane and Percy. Without taking his eyes from the victim, he knew precisely where his betrothed had sunk into a seat. He transferred one cord of light into the palm opposite, as if they were luminous reins, and his swift hand caught her arm and pulled her up and into the circle where a bond of bluish flame connected each heart in light. A woven star that for years had known six now had seven points.

Percy felt The Guard’s power, but there was another sensation
here, something else pressing in: the unwelcome and stifling dread of death. Then there came a laugh—Michael’s soft laugh—and she could breathe again.

The moment all hands clasped, Alexi shouted in their unknowable tongue,
“Hark.”
Music burst tangibly into the air, magic that this union alone created, called sharply into service by their leader. It was lovely, coming partly from the air and partly from their throats, drawing now into a sweet pianissimo.

For a moment the spirit writhing in Van Courtland seemed to listen. The possessed man then began to shake so violently that Jane could hardly control him. He flopped about, gasping for air in a hideous display. Jane swung her arm over him, now bending over his torso, her glowing, healing hand pressed directly to his heart. Maintaining life was a struggle, and she nearly had to pound upon his chest. He was hideous, his skin inhuman, flickering from pale to bruised to rotting before their eyes. Each horrific shift, Jane countered with a renewed healing burst. But she was tiring.

“Alexi,” she called softly, and with a fierce cry he threw an arm toward the floor. There was a veritable explosion as he, in his rich and masterful voice, issued a powerful torrent of an otherworldly chant that Percy could compare only to an Old Testament proclamation from God. The possessor hissed as if scalded, and the nauseating metamorphoses of Van Courtland ceased.

The group heaved a huge communal breath, and their circle closed in. Rapt, Rebecca suddenly rattled off a philosophical admonishment that Percy believed was from Sophocles. The spirit growled and hurled unspeakable curses toward her, and Percy gasped until Alexi tossed a fireball down its throat, sufficiently garbling the sound.

“Thank you,” Percy murmured.

“I wish you were as deaf as we tonight, dear,” Alexi offered.

Van Courtland’s body was now bound wholly by flame, and a peculiar chant Alexi named the Cantus of Disassembly flowed from The Guard, a music connected with wind, heartbeats and eternity, bequeathed to their minds and hearts many years ago upon the Grand Work’s birth within them. Yet it was somehow familiar to Percy.

There came one last gruesome gasp. Dark fluid was rustling beneath Van Courtland’s nearly transparent flesh, in patterns as if he were full of liquid marble. Whether this was blood or the spirit’s vile, vaguely tangible essence, it could not be determined, but whatever purity and magic the assembled company had brought to the air, it was being fouled by noxious gases from the usurped body, slipping out every orifice and leaking from beneath his fingernails.

Percy felt her stomach heave. Jane was rotating the star of her palm in slow curves over Van Courtland’s body, leaving traces of light hovering there, a misty shroud of a Celtic knot. Her healing white light and Alexi’s blue light of purification now bound together over Van Courtland. A punctuation rose to each of their lips, Percy included, and their incredible benediction lulled into a final
“Shhh.”

In a puff of sour-smelling smoke and with a final damning curse, the spirit at last departed the ravaged body of its victim. The group saw their foe for what it was, so rotted and disintegrated that it was but shreds of skin and muscle. This decomposed form lifted up to hover before them, swiveling its horrible head to stare from putrid sockets.