The Darkly Luminous Fight for Persephone Parker (7 page)

“Knock? You may yet teach me one day.”

“A man about to be married ought to have better manners.”

“Ah, but isn’t there something devilishly charming about one who commands a room as he pleases? I do believe my betrothed is quite taken with the quality.” Alexi smiled haughtily.

“Ask her once you’ve startled her in her boudoir. Once too often, it may grow tedious.”

“Until then—”

“You shall remain a brute; yes, indeed. Now. What is to be done with your…fiancée?”

Alexi took the seat opposite. “We ought to have a linguistic department, considering Percy’s uncanny ability with language. Athens could draw additional income from literary translation, fund a scholarship for women. She’d like that. She’ll need an office. Perhaps eighty, Apollo Hall.”

“Alexi, language is a humanity. Her place would be in
this
hall, not yours. You mustn’t make it entirely obvious how close at hand you’d like your young wife.”

Alexi raised an eyebrow. “Right, then. Well, the Bay Room…”

Rebecca raised a hand. “It’s haunted.”

Alexi blinked. “And that should bother her?”

Pursing her lips, Rebecca moved to a cabinet of files. She withdrew a small folder and sat at her desk. “Some record should exist about shifting Miss Parker from student to faculty.” Her brow furrowed as she opened Percy’s file. “Oh. I forgot about this.” She removed an envelope, the script upon which read:
Please open upon Miss P. Parker’s graduation or when she has been provided for.
It had been sent with the reverend mother’s request for Percy’s enrollment. Rebecca opened the letter and read aloud:

Dear Miss Thompson,

I trust you will understand the delicate nature of this missive and will share it with Miss Parker only when you deem it appropriate. Her mother died just after birth. I never mentioned a grave, but one does exist
—
in York. Miss Parker knows nothing of it, for it remains an unsettling sight.

I tremble as even I write this, but if there is any man who takes pity upon the poor girl, may he escort her hence to retrieve what was left at the site. This must sound nothing short of unholy, but I have prayed upon this matter so long I think it best to share it with you and have you appoint someone of upstanding mettle for the task.

I kept silent for fear of casting further pall over Miss Parker’s already trying existence. She wants desperately to attend school; I couldn’t shadow her adventure thus. I hope you kept her at Athens as long as you were able. Convent walls were not meant for her spirit, one meant never to be contained, not even in praise of our Lord.

If you have concerns, please contact me. The location of the grave is known here at the convent, should you never speak with me directly. I apologize for the mysterious circumstances surrounding our dear girl, but they have always been the cloak about her white shoulders. It is not her fault she was born odd. I would it were otherwise.

Sincerely,
Reverend Mother Madeliena Theresa

Alexi set his jaw and examined the paper. “That answers the question of where to reserve a honeymoon cottage: York.” He rose. “May I leave the arrangements of the Bay Room to you, as I have countless other preparations to make? May I borrow Frederic to send missives?”

Rebecca nodded. After he gave thanks, the door closed behind him. She lifted hands to her forehead, wishing everything were otherwise.

Isabel came bustling into the sitting room, a silver tray in hand, and Alexandra Rychman looked up from her sewing to evaluate its contents: a small white card with rolling script. “Michael Carroll, ma’am. He apologizes for any inconvenience, but extends an invitation. He says it has to do with your brother.”

“Show him in.”

Alexandra, with just as striking features as Alexi but elder, wheelchair-bound, retreated from her sewing table and rolled toward the threshold, smoothing the folds of her black taffeta dress. She loved visitors—few though she saw—and more so, any news of her brother.

Isabel, once she had removed his hat and cloak, led a broad-shouldered man with unruly pepper grey hair into the sitting room. He heralded sunshine, as if his very presence could cause a shift in seasons. No one could linger in winter near his cozy hearth.

“Miss Rychman!” He bounded toward her, taking her outstretched hand and kissing it. “Do you remember me? It’s been years since.”

“You’re part of Alexi’s little…clique.”

“A founding member, yes, indeed,” Michael chortled. “You’re looking well, Miss Rychman, if I may say. And I hope you’re feeling up for a bit of an adventure?”

Alexandra smiled. “Who
wouldn’t?
”

Michael grinned and patted the nearby sofa in a gesture of triumph. “I ask myself that question daily!”

“Well, then?”

“Your brother has instructed me to bring you to London.”

Alexandra’s eyes sparkled. “Has he now. And what on earth is the occasion?”

Michael beamed. “Why—he’s getting married!”

Percy had fabricated a convincing enough story of the night prior, and she distracted Marianna with titillating details of
Alexi’s first kiss that possible gaps in the plot were entirely forgotten. Side by side in the dining hall, their giddiness was tempered only by the unknown.

“You’ll have an
estate,
” Marianna murmured. “Is it far?”

“I shan’t be closeted away. I’m to stay at Athens in some capacity. He promised. Though his home isn’t far, and I want you to visit.”

“Oh. Good then.” Marianna brightened. “I’ve been trying to be so happy for you while ignoring how terribly sad I am at the thought of you going away.”

“You have Edward.”

“While I love him desperately, he’s no replacement for your company.”

Percy was moved. “Those are the sweetest words anyone has ever—”

“I doubt that,” Marianna interrupted, grinning. “Surely you’ve heard sweeter things of late. From him, of all people. It does amaze. He’s so cold…until he looks at you.”

“I know, it’s very disconcerting. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Footsteps sounded behind them. The dormitory chaperone, Miss Jennings, a squat, unpleasant, mousy-haired woman, stood over them looking terribly uncomfortable. “Miss Parker…a…gentleman is at the door for you.”

“A particular gentleman, Miss Jennings?” Percy asked.

“Er, yes. Professor Rychman, miss. But why a professor would be calling on a student in the evening—”

“Ah, yes, my fiancé. Thank you kindly, I was expecting him.”

The surprise turning to horror upon the woman’s face was worth a fortune, and Marianna masked a guffaw by sputtering into her teacup. Percy threw her thick cloak about her shoulders, kissed Marianna’s forehead and graciously swept past the chaperone, running to open the door to her striking beloved.

He’d straightened his appearance, replacing his tattered clothes with a new, elegantly tailored black frock coat and
pressed trousers, as well as a fresh crimson cravat and charcoal waistcoat. His mop of black hair was carefully combed and his arms were clasped behind his back. “Good evening,” he murmured, presenting a cluster of roses. He shot a disdainful glance at Miss Jennings, who scowled from the doorway but quickly disappeared.

Percy gasped and giggled. “How beautiful,” she breathed, taking them in her arms and allowing their perfume to wash over her. “Thank you.”

“As we were not afforded a proper courtship, I thought there ought to be a few niceties somewhere in the midst of our mad affair. Come, take my arm, dear girl, there’s something we must do.”

“Of course.” Percy slid her arm into his.

Roses on one arm, Alexi on the other, Percy felt like a princess as they entered Apollo Hall and ascended to his office. “A tutorial, at this hour,
Professor?
” she asked, entirely unsure of what he had planned. He was, at times, an unpredictable man, a quality that had its delights.

Alexi gave her a scorching look. “Of sorts,” he purred.

He swept her into his vast office teeming with books and fine furnishings, closed the door behind him. Percy raised her eyebrow at the sound of the clicking lock. He plucked the roses from her arms, tossed them on a nearby bookshelf and waved his hand to set a fire roaring in the fireplace and his desk’s candelabra ablaze. Then, scooping Percy into his arms, he carried her behind his desk and sat her upon it. She stared with wide eyes, her breath short and her body afire.

He loomed, placing one hand on either side of her, and leaned in. “You see, my dear Miss Parker,” he began in a businesslike tone edged with a growl. He pressed his forehead to hers. “Until I indulge a moment or two of the fantasies that began to accost me when you first came here to call, I’ll never again find this room the haven of academic productivity it once was. I’ll be driven entirely to distraction
until I purge a few less-than-scholarly impulses from my blood.”

All Percy could manage was an odd, gleeful sound that became a gasp when he descended upon her with a rain of kisses, his teeth fumbling at the lace around her throat, his hands pawing past layers of skirts to gain the purchase against her flesh as he laid her back upon the desk’s wide marble top, its contents having been suspiciously cleared sometime prior. “At last,” he murmured, “the insurmountable barrier between us lies in ruin.”

“Indeed. And shall I, too, soon lie in ruin?” Percy asked, not bothering to choose between a nervous or lustful tone since she felt both so strongly.

Alexi pursed his lips, staring down at her in consternation. “No, darling, I’ll give you the courtesy of a proper bed. I maintain you wed a gentleman. I did, after all, control myself during our lessons here. For the most part.”

“There was that kiss.” Percy giggled. “You threw me against the bookshelf.”

“Ah, yes, there was that.” He smirked. “How did that go, again?” He lifted and spun her. Her breath fled as he pressed her against the shelves for reenactment.

“Yes, that was it,” she finally gasped, as he carried her again to the desk. “Alexi, were you really thinking such things during our tutorials? You seemed so cold!”

“I began to unhinge the moment I demanded you reveal yourself, the moment you took off your scarf, your gloves, your glasses, all your shrouds, and stood bravely before me, diamond blue eyes piercing my soul.”

Percy frowned. “You looked at me in surprise, then.”

Alexi leaned closer. “You were a revelation.”

Tears rimmed her eyes and she looked away, terrified that when he saw the whole of her on their wedding night—her whole, ghostly, naked flesh—he would be repulsed. She pulled him near, a hungry kiss to stave off her fear.

Alexi eventually pulled back, adjusting his clothes, his
breathing ragged. “Do put yourself back together, darling. Seeing you all disheveled threatens to take the gentleman right out of me. Pull your cloak tight, dear, I see I’ve mauled your sleeve.”

“Miss Jennings will call the police.” Percy chuckled, rising to sit.

He helped her to her feet, cinching her cloak. “Tomorrow you shall be mine,” he promised softly. Thrills worked up Percy’s spine.

“Who will marry us?”

“Michael. He’s clergy, after all. Church of England. Do you mind terribly that he’s not Catholic?”

“Just don’t tell Reverend Mother.”

Leading her to the threshold, Alexi swept his lips against her ear. “Thank you for this indulgence.” When Percy brought his hand to her lips and kissed the centre of his palm, he growled, his fingertips dragging along her cheek. “You can’t possibly know how I need you.”

“Oh, I’ve some idea,” she replied.

A tearing sound drew them from their clutch. They turned to the centre of the room to find a large, open black rectangle before them, a door much like the portal Percy had opened at the Van Courtland residence. In an instant, blue fire leaped from Alexi’s hands. Percy still marveled at the sight. He approached the portal. Nothing came out. There was no immediate sound, other than water, but as they inched closer, Percy heard it: distant screaming. Incessant screaming. And the chant, again, chilling Percy’s blood.

“Lucy-Ducy wore a nice dress, Lucy-Ducy made a great mess…”

“Percy, stay back.”

Percy moved behind Alexi as he approached, unable to keep from poking her head around his arm to see. Deep in the darkness, a thick cluster of shadow moved. There was a flash of red eyes in the distance, and the sight triggered instinctual panic within her. Percy clamped down on a scream
and felt something sizzle upon her body. As her fists balled, the door snapped shut, and Percy’s eyes were drawn to her chest, where the phoenix pendant flared red against her body glowing white. Alexi turned, his eyes wide.

“Well…” Percy murmured, watching her light fade as the door closed. “It seems I’ve no control of when portals open, but Michael must be right: whatever woke in me now reacts to danger. Did you see those eyes?”

“What?” he asked.

“The red eyes. You didn’t see them?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Percy’s stomach churned. She recognized those eyes from her vision of the cave, when Phoenix burned. Oh, God, if something were to happen to Alexi…The very thought sent her into a furious, righteous rage, and it was only Alexi’s surprise that alerted her she was radiant once again.

“Percy!”

“Oh.” She looked down at her sternum, where a ball of white light again gathered. It dimmed. “See, it’s defensive. I was just worrying about something happening to you, and it must have triggered my…light. Tell me you’ve some scientific term to offer, I sound utterly daft.”

Alexi shook his head.

“It’s comforting, I suppose, that I have a defense.”

Her beloved scowled. “Perhaps, but I don’t like doors simply opening up without warning or cause. Particularly not in our intimate moments. And whose were those red eyes?”

“I…couldn’t be sure,” Percy said, daring not to voice her supposition, shoving panic aside. She fully intended to revel in the throes of love, not panic. “Now, where were we?” She moved to kiss Alexi with such passion that he had to draw back lest her innocence truly be stripped.

Staring up at him, a random thought suddenly struck Percy, and she cocked her head. “If I’m indeed some part of the goddess Persephone, for I’m no
actual
deity, shouldn’t I
have warranted another name? Mine isn’t very clever at all, then, is it? Rather obvious, really.”