The Double Life of Incorporate Things (Magic Most Foul) (25 page)

“She told me you were a brave, dear girl. But no hero does his or her entire quest on their own.”

I nodded, allowing myself to take that in as comfort. We shared more tea. He told me of his late wife who had died in childbirth, and of her ghost that haunted him still. Evidently, ‘that was how he and Mrs. Northe had become close. Séances. He asked if I’d met Senator Bishop, and I promised I’d give the man my best whenever I saw him again at Mrs. Northe’s house. If I ever returned to her house…

No. I couldn’t think like that. Act like that. I couldn’t possibly manifest that even as a possibility.

“I’ve my mother with me,” I stated, invoking her as a ward and guardian to refuse thoughts of failure. “Much like your wife, I know she watches over me. I do know I’m not alone. And for that I rejoice. Loving souls are never truly alone, for those who have loved us are always connected. Even the death of a body cannot stop that tether.”

“Spoken like a true Spiritualist,” Knowles said with a fond smile.

“I’ve learned from the best,” I replied, sharing the smile.

Jonathon returned within the hour. Nathaniel was with him. They entered the office, elegant black-coated figures shifting the quiet energy Mr. Knowles had cultivated into something alive and on edge. I jumped up, impetuously embracing him. I was his fiancée. I was allowed to do such things in the presence of others.

His tensed shoulders eased a bit as I snaked my hands around them and clasped my lace-gloved hands about his neck. “Well?” I murmured, noting that the look on his face was tired and haunted, but not defeated.

“I think the ‘Majesty’ continues to believe me,” Jonathon said. “Nathaniel, too, but I believe the next step will be a test. Moriel is his name. He said he’d be delighted by a dinner party and would be sure a few of his ministers attend. We’ll have our quarry. Let’s make sure our trap is well set and in place. We must be able to draw out their strategy, and once they’ve confessed their plans to listening ears, we’ll strike to the roots of their insidious tree and uproot it as best we possibly can.”

“We have to take care in regards to the trapped souls in the dining room,” I cautioned, turning to Mr. Knowles. “The family that took over the estate, their souls are separated from their bodies in a painted prison, likely the bodies possessed by demonic energies, as Jonathon’s was. I do not know where the bodies are, I assume in the service of the Society, but the paintings, and the persons, cannot be harmed until body and soul are reunited. I cannot trust police to be delicate in those matters. That family will be collateral damage if we are not careful. We need to ensure the countercurse is landed before the police make the arrests.”

“Very wise,” Jonathon agreed, squeezing my hand. “See how sensible my lady is, Mr. Knowles? I am a blessed man.”

“You have been a cursed man,” Knowles said gently. “And so you deserve such blessings as she. It is only right and just.”

I simply smiled, squeezing his hand back, tightly.

“Let’s fetch Miss Kent and Mister Brinkman and ready the plan,” Knowles said.

And we were off to the proverbial nightmarish races…

Evidently, the British agent Mister Brinkman was just across the street, awaiting a signal. I suddenly felt that, at any minute, any number of persons could descend upon us from unseen corners. The intimate, singular horrors that the Society had perpetrated upon Jonathon and me were now becoming a crowd sport.

Knowles palmed a small, hand-held lantern that had been sitting as a lit globe upon his desk. He moved to stand before the narrow, tall window to the side of his bookcases, putting a hand to block the orb’s light and then removing it three times. A minute later, I heard a key turn down the hall, then the front door open and close quietly and then not a sound until an uncanny apparition was seen in the doorway: a distinct form in a black cape. The man set his hood back upon entering the room. Brinkman.

             
I wondered how intently the spy had been watching us. Reading lips through binoculars, perhaps, poised and on sharp alert to all tells and ticks? When he crossed the room in a few measured strides, his eyes went right to us as if he’d known our positions. He made me feel as nervous as he did safe. I watched Jonathon’s face as he stared at the man, I assumed gauging his aura. As Jonathon remained cool and composed, the man’s aura must have remained positive…or at least neutral to us. I took a moment to thank whatever magical offsets had granted Jonathon that ability, as it was one of the more useful supernatural traits our situation could have afforded.

Brinkman could see me examining his oddly handsome face, trying to get a read on him. So many years of mutism had made me uncannily adept at reading moods, bodies, intentions, and more, just by look and physicality. This man was a compelling, blank slate. He simply smiled enigmatically at me, giving nothing away but that he was a man not to be trifled with. A consummate spy. I was no less nervous. But I was just a little bit impressed.

“Miss Stewart,” he said, bowing his head to me. I inclined mine in turn.

Knowles busied himself at a vast cherrywood credenza, making sure all the gentlemen had snifters of bourbon.

Brinkman turned to Jonathon. “From what you said upon our return ride from the Society office, it seems you laid the groundwork well, Lord Denbury. I’m hoping this little
party
will allow me to collar Moriel and his two top cronies. I’d like to cuff his whole cabal of six, but it would seem all the ‘Majesties’ are hardly ever in the same country, let alone the same room. Hopefully, the Society will fall out from under the top tier once we topple them.”

“What brought the Society operatives together in the first place?” I asked.

“The only consistent factor is that they are very old aristocracy from three different country’s traditions. Each of their line was at one point disgraced and remains relatively forgotten, with little money. However, they’ve gained traction in property.”

“Making a deal with the devil for a return rise to importance?” Knowles asked, taking his place at his desk.

Brinkman shrugged. “That’s the only thing I can figure about their aims.”

I heard a key in the lock down the hall and then Lavinia’s voice speaking in a pouting tone.

At the sound of movement at the door, Jonathon stalked out of the room and met them, lingering there at the mouth of the hall while Lavinia’s voice continued, getting closer as she said: “You do realize how much I’ve given up, Nathaniel, back and forth with you across the pond. I truly needed just one
normal
evening with my lady friends. Must we strategize at this hour?”

“We’ll address your sacrifices in time, dear,” Nathaniel murmured as they neared Knowles’s office door. “But that isn’t for here and now, with lives on the line. Everyone is here. Please appear as sensible as I know you are capable of being.”

Whatever Lavinia was feeling, she put on a calm and brave face when she entered Knowles’s now-overcrowded office.

The solicitor gestured to a decanter of some sort of rose-colored cordial and raised an eyebrow at Lavinia and me. Lavinia set her jaw and pointed to the bourbon instead. Knowles grinned and despite the departure in custom, included us both in the gentleman’s drink without question, a small courtesy that made us feel involved and respected. These were not times of common propriety. No one was looking to drown their sorrows in any substance; such behavior would not help our cause. But having something to hold and busy one’s hands with was a tiny comfort to take the edge off the tension in the room.

“I never thought I’d be grateful for anything that has befallen me,” Jonathon said as he reentered the room, stalking over to my chair and standing behind it to voice what I’d been thinking when he examined Brinkman. “However, the ability to see the lit aura, the incorporeal traces of any of my potential enemies is very useful. It would seem no one followed you here. I see no spark in the shadows outside.”

“I told you I’d be careful,” Nathaniel replied. Jonathon nodded at his friend.

“Friends,” Jonathon began, addressing all of us. “Let’s get to our points. The Society shall arrive at the estate at six tomorrow. I explained to Moriel that I would leave the proverbial ‘bait,’ the tokens, bound in the dining room.” He squeezed my shoulder over the back of the chair. “Do forgive me, my love, for referring to you as such—”

“I understand, Jonathon. That’s how they might refer to me. Not you. You will both have to play the part,” I reassured, even while I shuddered at the thought.

“They seem to be interested in blood tokens,” Jonathon said, clenching his jaw. “If you are bound at the table, my brave ladies, don’t worry what will befall you. Nathaniel schooled me in some sleight of hand. I don’t want you dreading anything that will be mere show, but please do react accordingly as though you’ve been affected.”

Lavinia nodded. She was used to this sort of thing more than I; surely, one of Nathaniel’s vampire bits on stage had her prepared for necessary theatrics. I swallowed hard and tried not to look ill.

Jonathon continued: “Nathaniel and I will meet the company at the door and lead them in, as it would be best they not find us all fraternizing in the dining room when they arrive. Tomorrow morning the Society said they’d return the staff to the premises to prepare the meal.” Jonathon turned to Brinkman to explain in a bitter tone: “Moriel confirmed, laughingly, that the staff they retain are possessed bodies. The family that overtook the estate per the Society’s coaxing is now enslaved to it. Moriel has taken those poor wretches on as his personal cook, footman, and the children as veritable slaves.”

“And their poor souls are trapped in the dining room portraits,” I added. “Before any arrests are made, we’ll need to invoke a countercurse to return souls into bodies and trap the demons. It’s not something I’d trust to leave to the average police officer. With all due respect.”

Brinkman nodded and tried to act as if the directives were commonplace, but his halting speech revealed his discomfort. “If you say so. I trust, then, that... you’ll handle the...countercurse?”

“We will, you must leave that to us,” Jonathon replied. “Natalie, I’ll trust you to later explain the principles of the countercurse to Nathaniel and Lavinia.”

I nodded again. I sipped the bourbon, and its sting was a nice offset against nerves.

“I’ll need a cue for my men to pounce,” Brinkman stated. “I don’t want it to come too early, but also not too late. I don’t want these bastards to try anything.”

“Or to let their magic build,” I added. “We can’t know just how many demonic forces they have, truly, at their disposal. Those we’ve seen have been embodied, but what about those awaiting a host?”

“We can’t allow anything in,” Jonathon murmured. “We don’t know exactly where these demons
come
from. How they summon them. If you’ve ever had a faith, now is the time to hold to it. We must not give those wretched, soul-sucking entities any room for entry.”

I nodded and thought of Maggie. I wondered what on earth could have happened to her. “Maggie’s gone missing, Jonathon,” I murmured. “No one knows where she’s gone. Mrs. Northe wired Mr. Knowles here to tell us. If she or Karen has any clairvoyant indications about what went on, we don’t know.”

“Well, she let the beasts in, Natalie,” he replied with a harshness I understood but didn’t expect, “and allowed the forces that tried to kill us to grow stronger by her reverence and favor. We can’t help her any more than we did. I can’t worry what’s become of her now. Not right now.”

I looked at the edge of Mr. Knowles’s fine desk and clenched my jaw, knowing Jonathon was right but still wishing there was something I could have done months ago to prevent her disappearance now. I said a prayer for her soul.

A slight movement of Nathaniel’s hand caught my eye, and I saw him clutching a beaded length with a crucifix in his palm, something he’d wound around his wrist, perhaps a rosary. Anglican England still utilized Catholic-associated tokens as they were very similar in structure, just as Reverend Blessing owed a great deal to the Catholic Rite of Exorcism. Every denomination, at its root, directed back to the same governing principles. Symbols of faith were the touchstones of our own retaliatory magic. Ours was a different color and weight, but no less powerful than the breed the Society perpetuated. I had to believe we were as powerful as demons, so long as we stood up to them.

Brinkman’s face was pinched; a slight crack in his facade indicated his own trepidation. I could empathize that a man like Brinkman didn’t appreciate supernatural variables in a carefully calculated plan. “My men will be instructed to wait for my whistle,” he stated, “but I can’t cue immediately. Not until there’s a bit of dirt under Moriel and company’s nails, otherwise we may not have as flush and solid of a case as we need to ensure their downfall.”

“If we’re drawing out their plan,” Jonathon piped in, “someone must be stationed to record what is said for evidence. If we place your men in my secret passages as we discussed, there is a pipe that’s perfect for listening in.”

“I’ll be sure one of my best court recorders takes notes,” Brinkman said eagerly. “If the paranormal aims of the Society are to be believed, we’ll need as much in the form of a confessional as possible, the madness and desire for chaos expressly stated so that the threat to queen and country cannot possibly be denied.”