Against a Brightening Sky (16 page)

“I've no intention of convincing her of anything. Disabusing her of the notion she's Alina's savior is much closer to the truth. I'll force the issue if need be. Gabe will listen to reason even if Libby refuses.” Children's voices drifted down the stairs, singing and playing games. Dora glanced up at where Libby waited on the landing. “I didn't realize so many children lived in the house. Not asking was foolish and compounds my mistake, but it's another reason to take Alina out of here as soon as possible. I doubt Libby realizes the great risk she's exposed these children to by taking Alina in.”

“I share at least half the blame. I never thought to ask, and I knew the kind of work she does.” Libby was young and idealistic, eager to save the world and with no real belief in evil. She saw everything in terms of obstacles to be overcome. I'd been like Libby Mills once, naïve and convinced there was nothing in the world I couldn't handle on my own. “Libby has no idea of the danger. She thinks it's safe here because it's always been safe.”

Dora squeezed my arm. “Let's hope she's right. Moving Alina will go a long way toward making that so.”

We topped the stairs and Libby gestured toward the end of the corridor. “I gave her the bedroom near the end on the right. The room is small, but it's away from the younger children and very quiet.”

I locked arms with Dora, letting her lean on me more heavily. “I'm sure you did your best, Libby. Lead the way.”

We'd only just started down the hall before the sound of pounding on the front door echoed in the front entryway. Libby turned, startled. “The two of you go on. I have to get that.”

Dora grabbed her sleeve. “Are you sure that's wise?”

Libby stared pointedly at Dora's fingers until she let go. “I know what I'm doing. There's a peephole that gives me a view of the whole porch. I won't open the door unless I can see who is there.” She started down the steps, calling back over her shoulder. “Besides, Gabe has men watching from across the street. I'll be safe enough.”

The corners of Dora's mouth twitched, edging toward a smile. “Touchy, isn't she? Let's go wake Alina.”

Alina's door stood open a few inches, giving us a view of her sleeping face. Her hair pooled on the pillow, framing her face and rendering her beautiful as a storybook princess. I started to push the door open wide, but Dora stayed my hand.

“Wait, Dee.” Isadora shut her eyes and cocked her head to the side, face screwed up in concentration. “Do you feel that?”

I concentrated as well, reaching out beyond the surface world. The sensation of falling into the watcher's eyes was stronger this time, more intense, as was the sense of being judged. Release came faster as well, but this time it hadn't let go of us completely. We were on a tether. “The guardian.”

“Yes. Your watcher isn't hiding any longer, at least not from us.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “I do wish spirit creatures could master the art of introducing themselves without giving me a splitting headache. I suppose I should be grateful we're not barred from entering. Open the door, Dee.”

I'd half expected the hinges to creak, but the door swung open without a sound, a detail I almost failed to notice. Alina's room was full of ghosts, an assembled choir of dead royalty much like I'd seen on the streets before the parade. They stood around Alina's bed in a half circle, ranged in neat rows that melted into the walls and continued beyond the boundaries of chipped paint and torn wallpaper. Kings in velvet tunics and queens in silk gowns, princes and princesses in rich court dress, and minor nobility I couldn't name, they all stood guard while she slept.

The assembled dead royals turned as one to stare as Dora and I entered the room. They were all faceless, unrecognizable as having once lived, or ever being human. A macabre mask of writhing mist replaced their features, but that didn't stop the sensation of scores of watching eyes that slithered over my skin.

“Oh dear God … Dora.” I recoiled and took a step back, not knowing why the spirits were there or what kind of ghost manifested as a faceless wraith. “What are they?”

“At a guess? Adjuncts to the guardian. They don't mean her any harm or they wouldn't be allowed so close. Now, hush a moment and let me think.” Dora leaned against the doorframe and studied the ghosts through narrowed eyes. That she didn't seem overly concerned calmed my nerves. “Do you remember what Alina said about dreaming of her parents?”

The answer came back to me right away, leaving me to wonder how I'd ever forgotten. I stared at the faceless haunts filling the room. “She said that she could never see their faces.”

Dora had moved farther into the small room, edging carefully around the outer line of spirits. I followed on her heels, even more careful not to brush against a ghost. The agony would pass quickly, but the thought of experiencing how any of these people had died was terrifying.

“Exactly.” Isadora never took her eyes from the ghosts. “And now we find her deep asleep and surrounded by a host of faceless phantoms. The easy answer would be that these are her memories, and they well may be, but I don't think that's the entire story. Alina didn't wake when we came in or began talking, and frankly that concerns me. Whether these are avatars of her memories or not, I don't think we should start banishing ghosts willy-nilly. These manifestations are more than symbolic.”

“Maybe all this is part of the watcher's protections. A way to cushion the blow of everything she's lost.” I knew the words were true as soon as I'd said them. “Everyone Alina loves is still alive in her dreams.”

Dora continued to edge around ghosts, leading me deeper into the room. “The same could be said for all of us, Delia. Dreams are the greatest bastion against losing someone forever. We can go on and pick up our lives with someone as if death or time had never interrupted.”

“Do you often dream of Daniel?” The question was out before I stopped to think how it might make Dora feel. She stopped with her back to me, shoulders held rigid, and I was afraid I'd hurt her. Daniel had been dead two years, killed in Portugal during the war, but he and Isadora had been lovers and friends a long time. “I'm sorry, Dora. I shouldn't have asked you that.”

“No, no, the question was fine. You just made me think for a moment. I sometimes dream about Daniel, but those dreams aren't about picking up our life again. All of them involve his leaving for Europe or saying good-bye in one form or another.” Dora looked back over her shoulder with a small, hesitant smile and held a hand out to me. Her cold fingers gripped mine tight. “When I dream of the past, and losing someone, I dream of John and Atlanta. John Lawrence is the one who haunts me. Now, let's see about waking Alina.”

An old, scratched, and scarred chest of drawers sat against the wall opposite the bed. The small mirror hanging behind it had lost most of its silver around the edges, but the princess ghost brightened into view in the small shiny spot left in the center. She looked past Dora and me, out into the hallway.

I discovered why soon enough. The sound of raised voices, shouts, and feet pounding up the creaky stairs carried into Alina's room.

Stained chintz curtains on the small corner window fluttered frantically, each gust of wind that whipped the fabric carrying a hint of women's voices crying out in loss and sorrow. Thick black smoke billowed in the open window, filling the room with an acrid smell and burning my eyes. Flakes of papery ash rode the wind, drifting in to coat Alina's bed and settle on her hair.

Isadora leaned out the open window, searching for the source of the smoke. She pulled back inside quick enough and slammed the window shut. Smoke still leaked around the casement, and the muffled keening of the wind could be heard, but the drift of falling ash stopped. “Delia, we need to get Alina on her feet right now. The corner of the building is on fire.”

Fire caught quickly in old buildings like this, sometimes spreading through most of a block before the fire brigades arrived. I was much more afraid of dying in a raging inferno than of plowing through the army of ghosts watching over Alina. That the spirits drew back from me, melting into one another and leaving a clear path to the bed, was a surprise and an unlooked-for blessing. Now wasn't the time to question why.

“Wake up!” I shook Alina hard and did my best to force her into sitting up. The princess ghost overlooked the room from the mirror, but she wasn't watching me. Her attention was still on the doorway, bright eyed with interest and eagerly awaiting the person running down the hall toward us. Dead kings and queens vanished, along with the myriad of lesser royalty. “Alina, wake up! We have to leave!”

She blinked rapidly and peered at me, confused by the smoke-filled room and my attempts to drag her off the bed. The wind moaned louder, rattling the windowpane. The fog of sleep vanished and Alina's eyes grew big. “They've found me.”

“Delia! Dora!” Sam Butler ran into the room, accompanied by Officer Taylor. Other footsteps sped up the stairs toward the children on the third floor. “Come on, we're all getting out of here. The fire department is on their way.”

I grabbed a shawl for Alina from the back of a chair and helped wrap it around her shoulders. Hunting for shoes and stockings would take too much time; time we didn't have.

Sam waved Officer Taylor back toward the stairs. “Taylor, go help Perry and Finlay with the children upstairs. We can get downstairs on our own.”

Taylor left with no further urging. Dora and I flanked Alina, holding her up while Sam led the way downstairs. The smoke was thinner once we left the bedroom, making it easier to breathe and to see. Alina's jaw was set, angry and defiant, but tears streaked her ash-smeared face and she trembled under my hand. I couldn't fault her for either. She had an equal claim on both anger and fear.

The front door stood open when we reached the deserted entry hall. Fire sirens wailed in the distance, shrill notes that echoed between buildings and gradually grew closer. Voices of the assembled crowd across the street carried inside as well, both nervous adults who knew what fire meant, and excited children who hadn't yet learned. The smell of burning wood, paper, and cloth was stronger and clung to the back of my tongue.

Sam paused at the open door, holding a hand up for us to wait. He poked his head out, whether checking to make sure no one lay in wait, or looking for some prearranged signal, I couldn't say. A matter of seconds was all the time it took for him to be sure and motion us out the door, but those few moments stretched into an eternity.

A line of squad cars sat across the street. Sam hustled the three of us into the backseat of the lead car, leaving the door open. He leaned against the doorframe, half blocking the opening, and watched people on the street. I exchanged looks with Dora. Both of us knew Sam was standing guard, but I wasn't sure either Libby or Alina realized.

Libby was already perched on a small jump seat facing the rear when we arrived, arms wrapped tight around Jake and watching the front of the house. Relief at seeing us took some of the anxiety out of her eyes, but not all. “This is taking too long, Sam. I need to go back inside. They should have had the children out by now.”

Sam frowned and tipped the brim of his straw boater up, glancing at the house and back to Libby. “Give them another minute. If they don't come out by then, I'll go back inside.”

“You don't need to worry, I promise.” I leaned and touched Libby's hand, ignoring Dora's raised eyebrow and the amused glimmer in her eye. No doubt she was hoping to watch me squirm when Libby questioned how I knew. The truth was I didn't know the how or why either, just that I was right. “All the children are safe and accounted for. The officers will bring them out any second.”

An instant later, Officer Finlay and Patrolman Perry led eight children out the front door. Taylor was on their heels, an infant in each arm, and shepherding a girl of twelve or thirteen. The older girl carried a much younger little boy. From a distance, I might have mistaken him for Connor.

“Oh, thank God.” Libby rested her cheek on Jake's hair and hugged him tighter. “Their mothers trusted me to take care of them. I don't know what I'd have done if anything happened.”

“This is my fault. I put you all in danger.” Alina curled forward over her knees, words catching in her throat. “I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have come.”

“Nonsense. None of this is your fault.” Isadora put an arm around Alina and held her close, petting her hair. Her eyes met mine, full of regret and resolve both. She meant to begin pushing Alina to remember. “Fires start all the time, for any number of reasons. There's nothing to suggest this has anything to do with you or the people looking for you. For the life of me, I don't see why you thought it did.”

Alina's head came up and she jerked back. Her voice was a low, angry hiss. “Don't treat me like a child needing comfort, Countess, or mistake me for a fool. I heard the wind and I know what the voices mean. The hunters know where I am.”

“I never meant to insult you.” Dora's smile was small and tight, her expression guarded. “But now I'm curious. Why did you call me countess?”

“Because—” Alina stopped and stared, her mouth half open to speak. Her anger melted away. “I don't know. For an instant, I thought I remembered you. Are you a countess?”

Isadora looked away, fiddling with her skirt and crossing her legs, stalling for time before she answered. She'd unlocked one of Alina's memories, but she hadn't expected this memory. Dora rarely spoke of her time in Europe, waving any questions away and maintaining that time was long in the past. I'd never pressed her for details.

All I knew of her marriage to Mikal was that she'd lost him. Marrying Mikal might have bestowed a title on her. If so, I'd never known.