The Strangely Beautiful Tale Of Miss Percy Parker (23 page)

He suddenly reeled backward as if struck. Percy did not get the chance to complete her declaration. His hands flew to his head, as if he was in great pain.

“Alexi!” she murmured, frightened.

“Something’s wrong,” he muttered, sinking down to the floor, rubbing his temples. Percy recalled the night of the ball and how he had been called away by the same reaction. He looked up at her sadly. “My dear Percy. I hope soon you and I may…indulge,” he said carefully, his jaw clenching, his eyes still flickering with desire. “But I fear for my friends. I must return to London. You must stay here in safety.”

“But—”

Alexi reached out and clasped her hands in his. “I don’t dare return you to the eye of the storm, Percy; it may not be safe for you. I’ll come for you in the morning. There’s nothing else to discuss. I must go.”

Confused and exhausted, Percy could only dumbly nod, helping him as he rose shakily to his feet. His face pinched with pain and anxiety, he bounded down the stairs and called for his sister. Percy glided halfway down to listen to their conversation.

“I must be off to London again, Alexandra. I’m sorry…”

“Already? Why, you’ve barely had time for a breath!”

“I wish for nothing more than to stay, but there is something, perhaps something dangerous—”

“Yes, yes, you and your mad work. I ought to be used to it.”

“You must do me a favor. You must hide Percy here tonight. I fear it isn’t safe for her where I’m going, and I can’t risk returning her to the school. I’ll come for her again in the morning. Is there space for her?”

“There’s always a room prepared, Alexi. Don’t worry…”

Alexi gathered his cloak, hat and a small black book Percy didn’t recognize, and darted back to find her on the stairs. Bounding up a few steps at a time, he swept her into his arms and buried his mouth against her neck, searing it with kisses. “I know I shouldn’t, but I cannot help myself,” he murmured against her throat as she gasped in pleasure. “Await me here and stay safe. I won’t be long.”

As he pulled back, Percy was struck by a terrifying thought. “Alexi…I’m not bringing this danger on you, am I?”

He smiled wearily. “Oh no, dear girl. It was brought on centuries ago. An old vendetta, between two antique creatures, that’s still playing out in our dreary little lives. Mortals made pawns by immortals—isn’t it terrible? But soon, my dear, we’ll settle the score. You and I.”

Percy tried to smile through her confusion, but it came out more a worried grimace.

Alexi seized her neck and moved in as if to kiss her goodbye, then groaned as his head pounded with a fresh, searing pain. Back in London, things were grim.

“Go, Alexi,” Percy said softly, kissing him on the cheek and ushering him to the landing below. “And know that I—”

“I know, Percy,” he said. Then he hastily turned and darted out the door before either of them could exchange a vow, was on his horse and tearing off down the countryside. There was work to be done before he could rejoice in her coming. He would not let Prophecy be tainted by premature declarations.

The sign they had been waiting nineteen years to see was now floating over the western lane of Trafalgar Square. The sign. The most important sign. Prophecy. It was a dark rectangle with a dim interior, much like the portal that opened when their meetings commenced in the chapel. But this one they had not made themselves, and none of The Guard was quite sure what was happening.

The canine abomination turned, ignoring his supine prey and staring instead at the portal. There was a sound—an unfamiliar, halting sound bellowed from a female throat. The monster’s ears perked up, and it bowed its head in subordination. The Guard next beheld the beautiful Miss Linden, her arms outstretched, power radiating from her in a stunning manner, her beautiful face suddenly terrible in its ferocity. The beast broke into a thousand hound clouds and vanished in a yelping flurry through the door. The portal crumbled into nothingness an instant later.

Miss Linden shuddered and stumbled forward with a cry of pain, as if shaking loose the effects of poison. After a moment she raised her head again, her face once more noble and beautiful. She stared at the others and offered them an exhausted yet winning smile.

“I fancy a drink. How about all of you?”

Reeling from the evening’s events, Percy wasted no time in falling into the bed Isabel had shown her. But, just as she was drifting off, a spirit floated through the wall and drifted close.

The entrance of spirits into her rooms was such a usual part of Percy’s life that it never startled her. And she didn’t always acknowledge them, because she couldn’t handle conversing with them all. But this elegant old woman, dressed in fine clothing dated a few decades prior—dark heavy fabrics with high collars and puffed sleeves—seemed intent on speaking with Percy, for she was staring down at her fiercely. She looked familiar.

“Zdravstvuyte,”
the old woman said, greeting her in Russian.

“Zdravstvuyte,”
Percy replied.
“Ochen priyatno.”

“Lovely to meet you, too, dear girl, but listen close, I’ve only a moment,” the woman continued, still in Russian. “The firebird has come for you and you alone, child. I’ve been watching. Tell my grandson that he mustn’t be fooled by the tricks of snakes. Tell him he needs to use fire to banish the darkness. His fire. It is the only way.”

Percy recalled Alexi mentioning his grandmother was Russian. She didn’t understand what the old woman meant, but she nodded in compliance, anyway. Alexi’s grandmother nodded curtly back and vanished.

With a sigh, Percy tried drifting off to sleep, but she was restless with the barking that distantly rang in her ears. At last she attempted a prayer: “Dear Lord, please help me solve a few riddles before receiving new ones. And bring my beloved safely back to me.” She pressed her phoenix pendant—her
fi rebird
—to her breast. She now believed the symbol meant Alexi. If so, then he was here with her, even in his absence. In fact, he always had been. She had to find a way to make sure he always would be, no matter the dangers ahead.

Teacups rattled on saucers at La Belle et La Bête, which was closed to everyone but an exhausted, nervous group of six, their jaws set and expressions stern. Rebecca and Josephine sat adjusting their clothing. Jane first healed everyone’s wounds, cuts and bruises, then went on to mend her torn sleeve, and she was now moving with an air of obsession to
mend her female companions’ bustles and skirts. Elijah and Michael left their shirtsleeves in tatters.

“You must think me mad for having burst upon you like that,” Miss Linden laughed, finally daring to break the silence.

“After the events of this evening, which of us would dare?” Elijah replied. When he snickered, the woman tilted her head in demure appeal.

“How did you find us, and then, how did you do what you did?” Rebecca asked.

Miss Linden paused, taking care with her words. “An unmistakable taste in my mouth occurs when something is…I could taste something amiss. And it’s not yet right.”

“Ye made that…thing retreat. We must know how,” Jane demanded.

Miss Linden shrugged. “All my life I’ve been plagued with strange company. Ghastly, nightmarish creatures, such as that one, are familiar. I’ve encountered all manner of the inexplicable.”

Jane gaped. “A beast such as that? Here in England?”

“Your group must be a magnet for troubled souls,” Miss Linden proposed. “But this was no mere troubled soul. No, when I speak of encountering other such nightmares, I speak of my time abroad, where there are many such creatures—forces of nature, really, things you’ve only heard of in myth.” She paused as the group nodded in amazement. “Forgive me, but where
is
that unmistakable professor of yours? Shouldn’t he be here?”

“We’ve been pondering that all evening,” Rebecca replied. “We were in need of him.”

Miss Linden looked troubled. “Indeed, how surprising! Elijah told me you were inseparable. I confess that I hoped to see him—his presence would have put me at ease.”

“Is that so?”

Miss Linden blushed. “I mean to say…”

“Yes, yes, he has a calming effect upon most people.” Elijah snorted.

Placing the glass of wine she held tightly in her hand upon the table, Rebecca leveled her gaze once again upon their savior. “Professor Rychman is currently…preoccupied with other business.”

Miss Linden’s green eyes flashed. “The pale girl,” she blurted. “He’s with that ghost of a girl, isn’t he?”

Jane and Michael looked confused, but Elijah and Josephine exchanged speculative glances. Rebecca gritted her teeth. The two Restoration wraiths in the corner ducked their heads together to gossip.

“Perhaps,” Rebecca finally replied. “He thinks her of great importance.”

“I met her,” Miss Linden murmured.

“Yes, I imagine. Your impression?”

“I would not be so bold as to conjecture about someone whom I know so little—”

“I ask only for your
impression,
Miss Linden.”

“Well,” the woman began hesitantly, “I’m not sure she is as unassuming as she pretends. She seemed to wish to challenge me. I tell you, something is—”

“Rotten in the state of Denmark,” Michael muttered.

“Yes,” was Miss Linden’s reply.

Glances and nods were exchanged among The Guard. The Restoration wraiths in the corner seemed to hold their breath.

“Perhaps we can make it right, my dear Miss Linden,” Elijah declared, rising from the table.

“Please, call me Lucille.”

“I suppose the saving of lives does indeed invite familiarity,” he replied. “Do you trust us, Lucille?”

“Implicitly. Though I cannot claim any intimacy by right, I…I feel I belong here. With you,” she suggested eagerly. “We must stick together, our kind.”

“Our kind? Have you met others like us?” Josephine asked.

“Never,” Miss Linden responded in earnest. “I’ve been
looking all my life for people like you. I feel as though my soul has seen centuries, and all for this purpose.”

The Guard looked around at one another. There was a door, and here was the reason for it. Something had to be said at last.

Rebecca cleared her throat. “Do you believe in prophecies, Lucille?”

“Why do you ask? Have you had one?”

“Yes, one heralded the coming of a friend to join our ranks, to aid in coming battles of this world we seek to keep at peace.”

“This friend, then…You feel it is I?” Lucille asked, breathless. As The Guard rustled in their chairs, she laughed suddenly, joyfully. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. To
matter
. To finally be a part of something important. Surrounded by so many strange forces all my life, overshadowed by them at every turn—to now have you as my own, and that ineffable Rychman, is my dream come true!”

“Have you spoken such impassioned sentiments to him?” Rebecca asked.

Lucille shook her head. “While I sense he is fascinated by me, he’s been unwilling to reveal anything. A careful, guarded man, he keeps his secrets well. A capable leader.”

“Save for abandoning us tonight,” Elijah muttered.

“An inscrutable man with many reasons for his actions, I’ve no doubt,” was Lucille’s reply.

Jane piped up, her infamous disinterest melting. “Ye take his side, Miss Linden. It’s nice to see he has a supporter.”

“Or an admirer,” Josephine corrected. Lucille coloured and stared at the table.

“And, the door,” Jane continued softly. “Have ye ever opened a portal to the spirit world before?”

Lucille blinked.

“It’s what our prophecy hinges upon,” Rebecca clarified.

“Oh. Well, doors between this world and the next have
always sort of…followed me,” Lucille replied. “I wish I knew why. Perhaps this is my answer.”

Rebecca rose and grabbed her by the elbow. “May I have a private word with you, Miss Linden?”

“Secrets, Rebecca?” Michael chided.

“Hush.” Rebecca batted a hand in the air and drew Lucille into the alcove by the door. “Please forgive the strange manner in which we speak here.”

“I assure you, I’ve dealt in odder exchanges.”

“Indeed? Then, if I may be so bold, allow me ask you something private,” Rebecca said.

“Anything.”

“Do you feel that Alexi Rychman may have a very…personal place in your destiny?”

The woman stared into her eyes, and Rebecca could not describe the calming power those emerald irises possessed; Miss Linden’s presence was an odd yet exciting balm. “I am certain, Miss Thompson, that my destiny involves him. I believe he is my destiny—even if he, at this point, does not share my conviction. He is a careful man, as you know, and very wise—”

“We’ll see about that.”

“For a mortal,” Lucille finished.

Rebecca’s lips thinned, and for a moment she was taken aback. “Why, Miss Linden, are you not mortal?”

Lucille’s eyes flashed. “Sadly, I am. Yet I feel like so much more.”

Rebecca nodded and the two shared a smile of understanding. “Indeed, I know that feeling well.”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed, as if she was considering the merits of asking a specific question. After a moment, she summoned the courage. “Since we are displaying the fullest candour, Miss Thompson…the professor’s eyes, they burn for something, but not for me. Why do you ask me about my feelings on this topic?”

Rebecca sighed. “Alexi believes that our prophecy has an…intimate element. He’s wrong. It was never directly said to be so. But, he’s so damn stubborn. In his mind, the woman who fulfills Prophecy will be…”

Lucille drew in a long breath.
“His?”

Rebecca nodded, grimacing.

“Oh, my,” Lucille murmured. “How exciting.” Then her powerful gaze clouded. “But he thinks the answer lies in that ghost girl!”

Rebecca nodded, knowing full well the snow-white creature who had claimed Alexi’s attentions. “I am afraid so.”

“How can I convince him?” Lucille asked.

“Convince him of what?”

“To love me instead!”

Rebecca blinked. “Well…that’s just it; you don’t have to. Alexi is misled on that point, making all of this more complicated—”

“But I’d
like
him to. All I’ve ever wanted is to be loved.”

Rebecca pursed her lips. “Indeed.”

“And I must tell you,” Lucille continued. “I’ve seen that girl. I fear for you if you keep her near.”

Rebecca scoffed. “Come now. She’s a timid girl, hardly a threat—”

Lucille shook her head. “I have seen what you do to spirits. She’s much of one, herself, I fear. Too much to be trusted.” Leaning in, she whispered, “Recently, when you took me to the professor, that girl was clearly threatened by my presence. Could she not have been sent from the realm of your enemies? That guise of timidity, her awkward isolation—these things cause her to
appear
harmless. But if she is not a mortal, if something else has taken hold in that body and causes that odd pallor…she could do a deal of harm. But forgive me, I prattle on! How presumptuous—”

“Your apprehensions are valid, Lucille. I will share them with the others,” Rebecca promised, and with that they returned to the group.

“You do realize, my friends,” she addressed them bitterly, “that this will not be easy news for Alexi. He is sure he’s found Prophecy in that student of his. He—”

As if on cue, Alexi Rychman burst through the door in an explosion of black fabric, clutching a book, his eyes bright. “Good morning, dear friends!” he began, filling the room with his presence. “I felt you were in trouble so I came running, but the storm seems to have subsided. Good work, then! And I have…such news!” After taking a good look at his companions. “You all look dreadful. What in the hell has happened to your clothes?”

“We haven’t slept,” Elijah countered bitterly. “And we’re in tatters because we were nearly
ripped
.”

“Sit, Alexi,” Michael commanded.

“I’d rather stand, thank you,” Alexi replied.

Rebecca whirled upon him. With unease, Alexi noted that the beautiful Miss Linden stood behind her.

“What in the name of our Grand Work did you think you were doing,” his friend hissed, “abandoning us on an evening when the Balance was at its most precarious? We were crippled by your unexplained absence. How could you do such a thing?” Recovering herself, she glanced at Miss Linden and the rest of The Guard. Alexi did the same.

Lucille was picking up the black book he had set down, and she began to look it over. Michael recognized the need for privacy and kindly waved, gesturing Miss Linden upstairs, giving an apologetic smile. Nodding, Miss Linden politely and unobtrusively put down the book and glided away.

Once she was out of sight, Alexi felt he had sufficient leave to retort, “You question me as if I were suspect? I acted for the very sake of Prophecy! Did you think I’d go on sudden holiday for the fun of it?”

“And since when does an illicit escape with your lover—oh, forgive me, your
student
—constitute aid to Prophecy?” Elijah demanded, his pale face flushed.

Alexi’s jaw dropped. “Slanderous fools, what right have you to say this? That hellhound came to my office, came for Miss Parker. I could not fight it alone, so I moved her to safety.”

“It came for us,” Jane said. “Since when has the fate of a student come before us?”

“Because Miss Parker is Prophecy!” Alexi cried. “Not that I should have to explain myself. I intended to share my findings at the proper time.”

“It is well past the proper time, Alexi, seeing as we almost perished tonight,” Elijah spoke up. “The prophecy wasn’t just given to you; it’s not your toy or alchemical formula to keep and meddle with. It’s ours. We are all in this together. You’ve given us nothing, and yet we have something incredible in our midst.”

Alexi’s gaze pierced him. “I know you think Prophecy points to Miss Linden. I realize that she is indeed incredible, with a presence unlike any other, with a beauty unmatched, and with the power to see spirits and know the unknowable. But
Persephone
Parker, named for my goddess, also sees spirits. She can speak with them in any language. Did Rebecca not declare our need for just such a translator when we worked in Fleet Street? She has transporting visions, too. She was even granted a vision of our liturgy, the sacred text known only to us, which came to her in a dream!”

“Is that all?” Jane asked.

“No, it isn’t, but what an impressive vitae on its own! She has worn a phoenix pendant around her neck since she was a child. She was scalded by that very pendant the night we demanded Prophecy be shown!”

“Alexi, none of that matters now. Prophecy has shown herself—to us,” Josephine countered. “We would have died tonight, Alexi. Do you understand that? We would have died if Miss Linden had not lent us aid. Tonight, we lived, without you. We owe Miss Linden our lives, and Prophecy was fulfilled. She opened a door.”

Alexi stilled. “What?”

“A portal,” Rebecca explained quietly. “As was foretold.”

There was a long and tense silence. Alexi shook his head, his body visibly taut. “No. This must be a trap. It isn’t her.”

Rebecca threw her hands in the air. “Oh, yes, it must be a trap! Of course, how foolish the rest of us are for believing we might have a part in this! You, who sacrificed everything to your fate, unlike we five…It could only be you to whom Prophecy would be revealed.”

Alexi kept shaking his head. “No, my friends, I…simply know. I know it isn’t her.”

Elijah’s nostrils flared. “And that’s your answer,
Professor?
You deny the one hard fact of Prophecy just because you ‘know’ things to be otherwise? Is the one scientist here listening to himself?”

“You do not trust my instincts or my proof.”

Rebecca held up a hand and attempted to explain. “Alexi, I’ve never seen you like this. You’re trying to pin Prophecy on this young girl when it’s supposed to be a peer. You’re tearing around in a whirlwind over her, fashioning facts so that it can be her—not that it is. You’re changed by her, as if by some spell. Where is our stoic, unfaltering cornerstone, willing to see only hard facts? There was a door to the spirit world, Alexi, through which the hellhound vanished. How much more plainly do we need the prophecy fulfilled?”