Evermore (22 page)

"Hell," George said. "We do have medicines
and poisons, for testing purposes. There are some members who
believe they can cause hallucinations that bring one closer to
experiencing supernatural phenomena, hysteria, that sort of thing.
I had no idea they could be combined into such lethal substances,
but I suspect others knew which is why these things are kept locked
away. Price, as master, had a key. Damn."

"It's not your fault," Mrs. White said. "I
didn't know what Leviticus was doing until after his first two
deaths. When I pressed him, he told me about the curse. I refused
to do it a third time. I told him it would kill him, which it would
have done. So he found that poor child and..." She sniffed. "When
that failed, he coerced Mr. Blunt into doing it. He held back the
opium, which he'd been supplying for some time, and forced him to
be my...victim. I didn't want to be party to it but Leviticus told
me he'd kill Mr. Blunt if I did not help. When you interrupted us
yesterday, Miss Chambers, I couldn't tell you what was really
happening. I had to pretend we were giving Mr. Blunt a cure for his
addiction. Leviticus warned me that if I told anyone the truth, he
would kill Mr. Blunt then me. I believed him."

"Very wise," I said.

"After you left, Mrs. Stanley and Leviticus
realized you may not have fallen for the ruse, so he sent her to
your house to pretend to be a turncoat and point the finger of
guilt at me."

"It worked," I said.

"Almost," George added, completely dressed
once more although his tie was crooked. "Emily, I am so glad we
didn't believe her entirely."

"A healthy dose of skepticism never hurt
anyone," Louis said.

I attempted a smile. "You would get along
well with Lord Preston."

"Leviticus was a good man," mumbled Mrs.
Stanley into her hands. "He was...lost. Angry."

"It's all so sad," Celia said. "The loss of a
child, or a loved one, can do terrible things to one's mind." She
glanced at Louis. He rubbed a hand over his stubbly chin.

"There's something I don't understand,"
George said, frowning. "Frederick died months ago, and Beaufort
soon afterward, correct?"

"Yes," said Mrs. White. Louis helped her to
stand and guided her to sit on the sofa near my feet. He still held
the pistol but kept it pointed away from everyone.

"Then why the long wait between then and now?
The shape-shifting demon was summoned mere weeks ago. Why didn't he
begin his revenge sooner?"

"Because of me," Mrs. Stanley said, lifting
her tear-streaked face. "We met the day after his son died. I used
to travel with a circus, telling fortunes. He came to me wanting
answers and we became friends. I understood him, my situation being
not too different from his. He was devastated, sick with
unhappiness and disbelief and a burning rage. We just talked, and
he was interested in my people and their beliefs concerning the
dead. He came back the next day and said he'd read about gypsies
and curses. He asked for a very specific curse, something that will
destroy the spirit, not just the life. I knew he wanted to hurt the
Beaufort boy, although I did not know his name then. It was clear
on his face that he wanted revenge."

"So you gave him a curse!" I cried. "You just
handed it over for a few coins!"

"I did not," she snapped. "Do not judge me,
Miss Chambers. I was angry too. I wanted revenge for my own son's
death, but I could not get it. I never learned who killed him. I
wanted to help Leviticus, and I wanted to act on my own anger and
sorrow through him."

"It is still a despicable thing to do to a
stranger," Celia said.

"I did not kill him," she said. "Nor did I
curse his spirit, not in the way Leviticus wanted. Something held
me back. Fear, perhaps. I was brought up to leave the Otherworld
alone, to respect it. But I knew the curses, just like all the
custodians in my family do. So I gave him a more harmless one to
use, one that would not destroy Beaufort's essence but send his
spirit into a—what do you call it?—limbo, forever waiting."

"Is that not cruel enough?" White-hot rage
burned inside me, bursting before my eyes, consuming me until it
was impossible to think of anything else except my hatred toward
Price and this woman.

Celia gripped my hand and Louis moved to my
side. Two guardians, ready to protect me. Or stop me.

"You helped him summon the demon and then
Mortlock much later," George said to Mrs. Stanley. He at least
sounded calm, sensible. "You gave him the curses to destroy the
Otherworld when it went against your beliefs. Why?"

"I did not see him again for months after I
gave him that first curse. Then one day he showed up at my tent. We
talked some more and I discovered that he needed a new home."

"So you offered Price these rooms?" I asked
Mrs. Stanley.

"I left the circus and bought this house with
money I'd saved and an inheritance. We moved in together and fell
in love. I wanted to help him. I wanted to cure him. I thought if
he had his revenge completely, he would get better. So I cursed the
amulet and told him how it could be used to release the demon. He
knew about possession himself, through his books, so Mortlock was
all his doing, but I found that little girl."

"Cara," Celia whispered. She reached up and
clutched Louis' hand.

"I'd seen her at the market in Leather Lane.
One day she was talking to herself, and when I asked her who she
spoke to, she told me there was a woman. There was no one there,
but I did not doubt her. I knew she could see spirits."

"But neither the demon nor the possession
assuaged Price's anger," George said. "You had to go one step
further."

"He grew more angry every time you won." Mrs.
Stanley looked at me but there was no malice in her eyes, just
emptiness, as if all her anger and sadness were washed out by her
tears. "He needed something more permanent, something to finish
Beaufort forever."

"And you told him about the curse?" Louis
asked. "Just like that? Did you not think through the
consequences?"

"Of course I did. But he was so unhappy, and
by then I would do anything for him. Anything. I was not afraid of
becoming nothing myself. I welcomed it." She shrugged one shoulder.
"I knew I was going to an awful place when my time came. Leviticus
knew that too. Our crimes had already been committed, and there is
no good place in the Otherworld for the likes of us. Why not
destroy it altogether? What did it matter to us?" Her face
crumpled, twisted, and a sob bubbled up from her chest. "Neither of
us was going to be with our beautiful boys. I would rather be
nothing than face never seeing my son again."

Her quiet sobs made the only sound in the
otherwise silent room. She cut a lonely figure on the floor near
the feet of Leviticus Price, her gray hair tumbling out of its pins
and over her face. George rose but I did not get off the sofa. I
felt stronger yet still so empty. Jacob had not come to me. He must
have gone. I hoped he'd crossed over, that we'd not been too
late.

At least I'd said goodbye.

"This must be reported to the police," Louis
finally said. "We cannot hide the fact Leviticus Price was
shot."

"We cannot tell them everything," Celia said.
She seemed to suddenly realize she was holding Louis' hand and let
go. She tucked it behind her. He stretched his fingers then balled
them into a fist.

"We'll go to Lord Preston first and tell him
what we've learned," I said. "If we can get him to believe us, he
might be able help us to convince the police that Price was killed
in self-defense." Getting him to change his mind was highly
unlikely, but we had a duty to tell him who had killed Jacob. If he
did believe us, his influence would be extremely useful when it
came time to inform the police.

I expected Mrs. Stanley to say something, but
she did not. Mrs. White, however, nodded. "I will agree to say the
same thing. There is no need for anyone here to suffer
further."

"Thank you," my sister whispered, dabbing at
her damp eyes with the edge of her sleeve.

"Emily, are you well enough to go home?"
Louis asked. "Should I carry you?"

"I'm well," I said, getting up.

"Don't exert yourselves too soon," Mrs. White
said to George and me. "You must rest."

"No problem there," George said, buttoning up
his waistcoat. "I feel like I could sleep for a week. Come, Emily,
we'll go to the Beauforts' together. Do you think the ball will
have finished?"

I stood, but the room tilted and my legs gave
way. I felt myself falling, but something caught me before I hit
the ground.

Not something, someone. "Jacob!"

"Emily, you look terrible." His hands circled
my waist as he gently lowered me to the sofa.

"He's here?" George asked. "Beaufort is
back?"

"He is," I said. And he was holding me. It
was exactly where I wanted to be, and where I wanted him to be. By
my side.

"Em, are you all right?" He pushed the hair
off my forehead and kissed me there. "Answer me."

"I'm all right," I said. "Oh, Jacob." I threw
my arms around his neck and buried my face in his shoulder. I
allowed myself one almighty sob then gathered my wits and drew back
to look at him properly. He was almost back to the way he used to
be. Although most of him was solid, like any living man, his edges
were a little smudged, as if someone had run their thumb around
him. I caressed his cheek, his jaw and neck, unable to get enough
of him. It was so good to touch him again, and to know the danger
to the Waiting Area was over.

He closed his eyes and leaned into my hand.
"Thank God, Emily. Thank God you're alive."

"The Waiting Area is back to normal?" George
asked.

"It is," Jacob said, but there was a small
hesitation in his voice.

I repeated his words for the others then
said, "What's wrong?"

"I feel a little weaker than I used to."

"It may take time before you are fully
restored to your usual spirit self." But there was more. He didn't
quite meet my gaze and I knew he was keeping something from me.
"Jacob? What is it?"

"As you can see, I haven't crossed," he said
heavily. "I thought I would now that Price is gone. I saw his
spirit briefly in the Waiting Area, but he didn't see me. It was
him, wasn't it? He tried to destroy the Otherworld. He was the one
who brought Mortlock back and the demon. He ended my life. So why
am I still in the Waiting Area?"

"Oh, Jacob, I'm sorry. I wish I knew."

"I think it's something to do with what he
said to me when I died. That I must give something up." He faded a
little, not quite as much as when the Waiting Area was under the
curse, but he certainly wasn't solid anymore. "Do you remember,
Em?"

"I do. You still think that relevant now that
he's gone?"

"Yes." He closed his eyes. "I feel so
tired."

"You can rest soon." I cupped his face in my
hands. "Think. What could you possibly have to give up?"

But it wasn't Jacob who answered me. It was
Mrs. Stanley. "He must give up the one thing he truly cares for,"
she said. "But he cannot. Can you, Mr. Beaufort?"

"You know what it is?" I clutched at Jacob's
arms. The muscles tensed beneath his shirt. "Tell me. I want you to
crossover. I want you to be at peace. Tell me what you must give up
and I'll help you."

His mouth twisted, his nostrils flared, and
for a brief moment he fainted away to almost nothing before
flickering back into existence again. "It's impossible, Emily." His
voice was thick with emotion and exhaustion. "She's right. I've
tried. I tried to give you up. But I can't."

"Me?" I whispered.

"What is it?" Celia asked. "What did he
say?"

"That he must give up me, yet..." I shook my
head. We'd suspected that he had to stop loving me and let me go,
but when he had tried, nothing happened. "It didn't work last
time."

"That's because I couldn't do it. I couldn't
give you up. Anything else, yes, but never you." The corner of his
lips curved into a wry smile. "Not even for everlasting peace. I
love you. Stopping is an impossibility."

I pressed my cheek to his heart but there was
no beat. He felt so cold and he faded a little again.

"There is another way." I heard Mrs.
Stanley's words, but they didn't sink in until Louis, George, and
my sister prompted her for more. "Now that Leviticus is...gone,"
she added, "there is something else you can do. Is he weak, Miss
Chambers?"

"Yes," I whispered. "Why? What is happening
to him?"

"Please Mrs. Stanley," Celia urged, "make
amends. Do the right thing, and tell us what to do."

She didn't answer for so long that I thought
I'd scream with frustration. Louis adjusted his grip on the handle
of the pistol, but he didn't use it to threaten her. I was afraid
my sister would snatch it from him and do it herself if Mrs.
Stanley didn't speak.

Thankfully the landlady did. "You must find
Beaufort's body," she said. "And quickly. Now that the one who laid
the curse on him is gone, Beaufort's body is dying."

"He's already dead," George said.

"No, he's not," she said. "He's still alive.
But not for long."

CHAPTER 13

Alive? Jacob was alive?

Impossible. It had to be. Either I was
dreaming or Mrs. Stanley was lying.

And yet...and yet...

"Why should we believe you?" George asked
her. "You've lied so many times already. How do we know this is not
one more?"

"It may be." Mrs. Stanley's accent seemed
thicker and her manner was of someone who no longer cared what
anyone thought. I felt a little sorry for her. I didn't understand
why she could love someone like Price, but I understood deep,
soul-wrenching love, and that was enough for me to forgive her
role. "But you will not know for sure until you find his body."