The Darkly Luminous Fight for Persephone Parker (13 page)

Alexi only smirked as she tugged him next to his library, a room of dark green walls, cherry bookcases and innumerable leather spines. Percy, lost in the sights and smells, recognized his scent—clove tea and leather-bound books—and leaned close to breathe him further.

Rococo writing desks and random laboratory equipment were arranged throughout the room, interspersed with worn chairs. A large phonograph took up one corner. The moment Percy’s eyes fell upon the large, fluted bell, Alexi was quick to go and turn the handle. With a sputtering hiss, out flowed a dark, tumbling Chopin étude. Alexi returned, and Percy found herself intoxicated anew by the way dim candlelight played on his features.

She pulled him again into the foyer, rejoicing in how music permeated this house. She ran to the windows and unlatched the shutters, one by one exposing the entire house to a wash of moonlight. A wild, unkempt rose garden came into view, with a winding path to a grove of birch trees.

Alexi took in an awed breath. “My God, you become the very moonlight,” he breathed. Percy looked down to see how bright her skin glowed, and her husband extinguished all other light with a wave of his hand. Her body and the moon itself were the only sources of illumination.

He swept her into his arms and began to dance her around the foyer, pausing every now and then to steal a kiss. All through the house they spun, in and out of every room, a deeper kiss in each, finally waltzing up the stairs, swirling about the balcony and through each of the elegantly appointed bedrooms. Their laughing sighs whirled them into the master bedroom, which was furnished with a lavish four-poster bed thickly draped by burgundy curtains, an armoire, a wide hearth and a leather-topped writing desk. A great, arched window looked down onto the wild garden,
and strands of ivy could be seen sneaking onto the panes of glass.

Arms around each other, they gazed down at their estate. Alexi softly kissed the crown of his wife’s head. “Percy,” he whispered. “I used to hate this lonely place, shuttered and collecting dust. The whole of it now brightens with your radiance. It is the first time it is truly home.”

“How could I not shine, Alexi, with such blessings as these, as you—?” Her voice broke as she pressed her cheek to his breast.

The sentiment encouraged his covetous passion. She had assumed she would live her life entirely without such intimacies, but she’d been wrong. And Alexi held her afterward, all through the night. Percy, overwhelmed with the magnitude of her blessings, knew she’d never tire of their wonder.

Jane sat alone in her study, eyes closed. Marlowe, her white cat, was curled around her leg. She was waiting, listening for the soft chime of the clock that would bring both night and
him,
and as it did, the air around her grew cold and she shuddered with delight. A chill pressed upon her lips like a feather made of ice. She opened her eyes to Aodhan’s phantom kiss.

He drew back, the chill of his lips a lingering mist. He gestured for her to open her hand.

“You’ve brought me something?” she asked, but the look on his face stilled her pleasure. She reached out, and into her palm he trickled a stream of ash. As Jane furrowed her brow, wondering what he meant, he pointed emphatically to the clock. “What? What is this?” she breathed.

He grimaced and tried gesticulating. Jane shook her head, baffled. The light of his shade flickered. Time was not on his side these days, the Whisper-world weighed heavy and he faded before he could offer warning.

The next morning, before breakfast, Alexi offered Percy a tour of the immediate grounds, and her excitement nearly had him skipping with her toward the rear garden. Braced by the brisk air, they strolled about the twisting, overgrown, cobbled path through thickets of what, to Alexi, was indiscernible foliage. Percy joyfully pointed out to him the names, blossoming seasons and general particulars of each.

Returning, they found the Wentworths, housekeepers to the Rychman estate. The pair did not live directly at the house, but in a nearby cottage, as Alexi wanted to keep his immediate home clear of anyone not involved in the Grand Work. The servant couple had recovered from the shock of the professor’s letter announcing that he would be returning from a honeymoon with a new mistress of the house; Alexi had taken pains to describe his dear young wife and champion her sweet nature, lest they show surprise at her singular pallor. The Wentworths were clearly not prone to gossip, suppositions or much conversation for that matter, but to Percy’s great relief, she no longer feared her lack of domestic savvy; Mrs. Wentworth would take care of everything.

The woman showed Percy to her boudoir, where a single trunk containing her meager possessions from Athens had been unpacked, and an entire wardrobe had been filled, via Josephine’s instructions, with stylish dresses in various shades of blue and purple. The Frenchwoman had written she’d only seen Percy in these colours, and so they must be her favourite. At this, Percy burst into tears.

“Oh, madame, there’s no need to cry,” the round and rosy Mrs. Wentworth clucked. “The professor can send for a seamstress should these not be to your liking.”

Percy laughed. “Oh, Mrs. Wentworth, I shed only grateful tears! Please understand that I was raised an orphan pauper in a convent. Living at Athens was palace enough, but now the riches of this household…I don’t possibly deserve such immense good fortune.”

“And why on earth not, Mrs. Rychman? Dear creatures who, as you do, take nothing for granted, you deserve every comfort, for you are of the mind to appreciate it. The master’s a shrewd man who’s kept his lamps trimmed low and his costs negligible. I’ve long thought it a shame, him being as well provided for, as intelligent and not altogether bad-looking as he is, that he had no wife to dote upon. I believe he’s only too happy to spend money on you, that it’s a pleasure for you both.”

“Why, Mrs. Wentworth, you are a domestic savant, indeed.” Alexi’s low, rich voice slid into the room with his person following close behind.

The woman coloured. “Forgive me, Professor, if I speak well past my place, it’s just that your wife—”

“I overheard her gracious tears, and I think, Mrs. Wentworth, that you spoke perfectly to the point.”

The woman straightened herself proudly.

“Darling,” Alexi said, pursing his lips, offering Percy his breast-pocket handkerchief. “Do grow accustomed to being provided for, will you?”

Percy stared up at him, stricken that his comment was a reproof, but his eyes sparkled with humour.

Though the dining room was large, they sat close and ate a leisurely breakfast. Percy’s face was warmly lit beneath the low and magnificent chandelier, but her gaze clouded as she set down her silverware. “I ought not keep you waiting, Alexi,” she said suddenly.

Her husband offered her a quizzical look.

“Mother’s note,” she clarified. “If you light a fire and sit beside me, I can face anything.”

Alexi nodded and led her into the study. Procuring the papers, he bade her sit on a soft leather sofa. The flick of his hand provided light and warmth from the room’s hearth. Percy grinned, nestled into Alexi’s arm and resumed.

“ ‘My name is Iris Parker, and I was brought from sin to deliver you, whom divine mystery surrounds. I was born
into a wicked life, but Mother told me of the Lord, and the Holy Spirit was my only solace. Born with a heavy heart and wont to lapse into profound melancholy, I had clouds of darkness all about me.

“‘The night my life changed, I’d been left for dead by a horde of drunken thieves after falling from high balcony rails, down onto the courtyard stones of an inn—I was always roaming. Here, I was sure, was my final stand. There was so much blood around me, I was destined for death. The fall seemed to have broken everything, and as I prayed to God to end my pain, there was a great light. I was shocked to wake, alive, in a stone room. A convent room. A bright star fell before me. In the light stood the Blessed Virgin. She was dressed in and full of light, bringing the music of angels. She kept shifting colours—’”

Alexi started, and Percy glanced at him. “Our goddess,” he breathed, “who proclaimed Prophecy to us. Your reverend mother was granted a similar vision, surely by this same herald”—he stared at Percy, his expression complex—“assuring you would come to Athens. To me.”

“And thank heavens for it,” Percy murmured, turning again to the letter.

“ ‘The Blessed Virgin proclaimed you like the Christ child, said that you would offer hearts peace and triumph despite all obstacles and iniquity. She said you were escaping a prison to reunite your soul, escaping an old vengeance, seeking to be reborn in love. She said you would do everything to make a life of pain into the life of love you were denied.

“ ‘This heavenly creature wept as she spoke, and I was humbled. Each tear was silver and sang with sorrow. She caught the droplets in her hand. She proclaimed I would henceforth be with child, and when she opened her hand the silver tears had formed a necklace—a bird. I wish I could leave you more than a talisman as inheritance, but this is no ordinary pendant. It is from the divine.’”

Percy plucked the phoenix pendant from her breast and brought it to her lips before continuing.

“ ‘I do not know if you are a messiah, Persephone. That is the name I have been told to call you. Our Lady said so with such blushing fondness that I could not resist. I cannot question the goodness of her bidding, nor can I question that you of all creatures were not born of natural cause.

“ ‘The Virgin vanished, but a woman in the room remained. I started, but she told me not to be afraid, just like the shepherds in the field. Her name is Beatrice, and she pens these words, as I never learned to write.’”

Percy and Alexi took a moment to stare at each other.

“ ‘Beatrice understands pain and loss, is a sister in this journey. She confirmed my vision. I do not know why I trusted this stranger, but she leads me on, unfailingly quiet and kind. We’ve descended the eastern English coast, always moving. We are en route to York, where the Institute of the Blessed Virgin shall surely take you. I shall leave these pages for you there and cover all traces of your birth from intrusive eyes.

“ ‘Sprits are now visible to me, Persephone. I see them everywhere. Perhaps you will, too. Beatrice hushes them when they come too near, lest they kindle fires of madness in my mind. But…to have a purpose, Persephone, to become part of something greater than ourselves, to serve something lovely and mysteriously divine—this is the greatest validation of life itself.

“ ‘I will make sure the sisters know to send you to find ‘The Power and the Light’ at a school in London. That was my instruction. The Power and the Light. Whatever that is, Persephone, it sounds stately and grand.’”

“It is our benediction,” Alexi spoke up. “And the motto of Athens. It seems that the power of The Guard is somehow tied to that building. But…I still don’t understand. If all of this was carefully orchestrated, why wasn’t I simply alerted to you from the first?”

Percy shrugged. “Beatrice said destiny could not hold our hands. I daresay falling in love with you of my own volition was far better than being told to do so.”

Alexi stared at her, his eyes soft. “Indeed, Percy. You are correct and very wise.”

They turned their eyes one last time to the scrawling script.

“ ‘We’ve begun to fondly call you Percy. Forgive me your nickname, as I don’t believe I shall know you long as a child. Still, let me indulge in such motherly contrivances. You’re my last gift to give before I join the Lord. I’ll cradle you, Percy my girl, and then be off. I sit without sadness as Beatrice writes this. I once begged for my constant darkness to end. You made my ending sweet and filled it with light.

“ ‘I know the world awaits you. Who knows what strange gifts you may acquire, what pharisees will attempt to denounce you. You were not born like a common mortal. You shall not live like one. There are dark forces that defy light. Some might search for you. I trust you’ll see things, the light or the dark of them. I pray you find your way through.

“ ‘If for some reason you’ve not been, go straightaway to Athens. In London. You’re awaited there, fated for a great love. But a storm comes. All the spirits are murmuring. The very air is filled with excitement. The clouds are swirling, and all the dogs are barking. You must be a very special girl, indeed, my miracle. God bless, my child. I’ll hold you soon, and I’ll speak to you in heaven.’”

Percy set the papers aside. Tears streamed down her face. Alexi lifted her chin and wiped her eyes. She leaned against him, and he folded her close.

“I need you,” she murmured, blurting the first thing she could think to say.

“Good,” he replied. After an awkward moment, he kissed her cheek. “I love you,” he whispered. Then, rising, he left the room.

Percy blinked after him. She wondered if she should feel
hurt by his departure. Instead, she exhaled slowly and felt comforting familiarity in solitude. Moments of distance and awkward silences couldn’t be avoided with two such solitary creatures as they had always been. She had seen a brief moment of fear in his eyes, perhaps of losing control. Love could be overwhelming, and perhaps it was sometimes best to walk away, lest the tempest lose its wondrous beauty for its dizzying effect.

The Rychmans’ first estate dinner party was comprised of an average group of middle- to upper-class English citizens, well-assembled and appointed, or so said appearances to any of the uninitiated. Not that anyone outside of The Guard was invited.

Percy played excited hostess at the door. Alexi had retained no house staff beyond those needed for dinner preparation, and so it was he who took their coats and cloaks to the wardrobe near the door. He allowed his more congenial half to comment upon his guests’ formal attire and bid them enter the dining room.

Rebecca lingered at the entrance, keeping Michael behind and out in the chill a moment as she pressed Percy’s hand in hers. Holding on for a bit too long, an odd light in her eyes, she spoke softly. “Welcome back. I trust you had an enjoyable time. Now that you’ve returned, please take care of yourself. You’ve wedded a dangerous fate. Please,
please
take care and be alert.”

Recalling Beatrice’s words, Percy felt her blood chill at this warning. Perhaps Rebecca’s intuition sensed something her own visionary nature could not anticipate.

Alexi’s sharp ears picked up on every word, and he fixed Rebecca with a curious, concerned stare, but before anything further could be said, Lord Withersby brought up the rear of the entourage, nearly shoving Michael inside, whisking Josephine hastily across the threshold so that he could enter.

Stumbling into the foyer, he cried incredulously, “The light, Alexi!” He flung his arms before his face as if blinded. “The sheer light of the place!” Taking Percy’s face in his hands, he kissed both cheeks. “Why, I never knew this place so grand! I’ve never seen it lit! This husband of yours, madame, if you’ll know, always prowled about here in the dark.”

“So I’ve heard.” Percy cast a smirk in Alexi’s direction, and Elijah gurgled in protest.

“You’ve got her smirking now, Alexi! Come, you oughtn’t have affected such a change upon this sweet face. Soon, heaven forefend, you’ll have her sneering. Who knows what disasters may yet befall her in this house, and you’ll douse all the lamps again—”

“Does he leave it any wonder why I was desperate to go on holiday?” Alexi asked Percy, offering only a sneer as response to Lord Withersby.

“How was your time away?” Michael asked. “The sea is lovely no matter the clime, I imagine.”

“Indeed, Michael, indeed,” Percy assured him, leading Elijah toward the dining room. He was trailing behind her, staring about the estate as if he were attempting to compare its grandeur to his own. Every now and then she noticed his gaze shift nervously. His mouth was pinched, his laugh a higher pitch than usual. Perhaps none of her new companions had a particularly relaxing time in their absence but instead were more tightly wound. This did not help Percy’s hope for trust among her new peers, but she chided herself for being haughty enough to think it had anything to do with her. Surely personal dramas were afoot, nothing more.

A hearty course sat open and ready for the guests on their plates, though Mrs. Wentworth hadn’t understood why Alexi didn’t mind if their dinners went cold. The company took seats, leaving Percy and Alexi the ends of the table. Michael’s fork poised over his dish.

“Percy dear,” Alexi began, “the roses you provided are lovely, but would you mind moving them to the hutch?”

“Of course.”

As she did so, Alexi waved a hand and a huge ball of fire flashed over the table, warming all plates and only slightly singeing napkin edges.

“I daresay I’ll never tire of that!” Percy exclaimed. Alexi flickered a proud smile.

Michael and Jane were both immediately lost to the raptures of well-seasoned potatoes. The rest began to pick like birds at their meals.

“So,
mes amis.
York, was it? Did you see any of the town?” Josephine asked.

Percy ducked behind her napkin, unfolding it slowly as her face had acquired mottled patches of rose. Indeed, they had not explored one acre of the town, as there were far more pressing personal explorations taking place.

“I procured a quaint cottage and it was quite relaxing,” Alexi replied calmly. “Directly over the sea, away from the village. Thankfully no disturbances, ghostly or otherwise, befell us. I hope your time here was similarly quiet.”

“A few admonishments here and there—” Rebecca began.

“Goldsmith’s reprobate head again,” Elijah interrupted.

“I hope you all behaved yourselves,” Alexi intoned.

Jane took a swift drink of wine.

“Model citizens, we were,” Josephine declared. Elijah, seated beside her, threw an odd glance over his shoulder, making Percy wonder what adolescent behaviour they had been up to.

“I’m sure,” her husband offered.

“You’d best return to Athens as soon as possible, Alexi,” Rebecca said hesitantly. “There have been…changes. I cannot explain it. Beatrice Tipton is doing something. She’s been seen coming in and out of doors. Actual, physical doors. New ones. It’s odd.”

Alexi furrowed his brow and was silent for a moment. Percy wasn’t fond of the idea of doors, especially not portals to the Whisper-world, and she was sure he agreed. “First thing in the morning,” he declared.

“It was lovely to see Reverend Mother again,” Percy offered, eager to bring normality again to the table. “It was quite clear everyone was shocked by my marriage. While I enjoyed showing Alexi my old haunts, so to speak, I confess that Athens felt more my home after a few days than years inside that brick institute.”

“And Reverend Mother,” Alexi added, “quite approved of me.”

“But I daresay, old chap, there must have been a bit of convincing the mum that you weren’t some cad academic with a passing fancy for the young and studious.”

Percy choked on her potatoes, but Alexi set his jaw. “My proper intentions and the advantages of my position were made quite clear, thank you.”

“‘Advantages of your position.’ I’m sure.”

Michael spoke up. “Elijah, wouldn’t you like to introduce Mrs. Rychman more gradually to the insults and injury lobbed at her husband, or have you fully armed the battery this evening, this but the warning volley across her gentle bow?”

“Perhaps it’s best I learn to pick my offenses, as it appears I shall have many from which to choose,” Percy replied, amused and a bit dazed, and everyone chuckled.

“To the wedded couple, their well-deserved holiday, and their safe and happy return to this fine estate,” Michael said grandly, raising a glass. Everyone followed suit.

“Thank you, my friends,” Alexi declared. “I think it hardly in need of announcement, but we would be well-advised to hold a meeting tomorrow night in our chapel.”

“Agreed,” Rebecca seconded. “And, you are aware of tomorrow’s staff meeting at Athens, are you not?”

“Indeed. Percy and I shall both be in attendance,” Alexi replied.

Percy shrank in her chair. She’d forgotten about her new role as staff. She wondered if she was too shy for such an office, sure the faculty would regard her with curious disdain.

“Do come early,” Rebecca said sharply. “To see the…changes. And take care.” She stared at Percy a moment before picking up her drink.

Alexi nodded, then launched upon a surprising subject. “We were given a letter from my wife’s late mother. It seems she knew Beatrice and was visited by our goddess. A prophecy this was, indeed, and she left items for future examination.”

Percy busied herself with her tea. Her life had never been of interest to a group, and the openness with which Alexi initiated discussion of such odd and yet intimate portions was jarring. Feeling as pale as her flesh ever was, she was thankful he did not further mention the singular circumstance of her conception, lest Lord Withersby jokingly proclaim her the world’s next messiah.

“I’ve much to ask Beatrice, but we ought not have her trying to speak to any of you directly,” she said. “It seemed my mother went a bit mad from hearing spirits.”

“Why, then, Mrs. Rychman, have you not?” Michael asked.

“I must be special,” she replied, giving a small grin, knowing he meant no implication. “Or I’m completely mad already.”

“You did marry Alexi,” Elijah offered. When Josephine groaned, he added, “Come now, she nearly begged for that!”

“Whatever you might do to avoid baiting him,
ma chérie,
may aid in keeping this irredeemable predator at bay—for which we shall all be grateful,” Josephine instructed tiredly. Percy simply nodded.

“We hoped he would give you a bit of respite, at least in your own home,” Rebecca muttered. “Next time, you may have to accidentally forget to send his invitation.”

“And the event would die a prompt and quiet death,” Elijah assured her.

“Only peace and quiet—blessed peace and quiet—would survive,” Rebecca replied, removing a cutlet from Elijah’s plate and planting it on her own. “How splendid the thought.”

After dinner and wine softened the jousts and eased all tensions, the gentlemen of The Guard retreated to the study for sherry and cigars, while the ladies sat in the parlour with coffee and a plate of small pastries that Josephine was loath to relinquish. After a long moment, Percy finally voiced her concern. “They won’t be…talking about me over there, will they?” she asked meekly.

“Of course,” Jane replied, shrugging. “I’m sorry, Percy, but it’s the truth.”

Josephine leaned in to add her opinion. “I have no doubt Elijah has by now made at least one inappropriate comment.”

“If not five,” Rebecca said.

Indeed, across the hall, in the suitably masculine den that had so delighted Percy earlier, Lord Withersby placed one thin hand upon Alexi’s shoulder while the other jauntily swirled the liquor in his crystal snifter. “So, old chap, let’s get right to the point. Tell me. Was your Persephone suitably divine?”

Michael, cigar in his mouth, gasped and sputtered smoke out his nostrils, and could only watch in choking horror to see if Alexi would promptly throw Elijah from the premises. Their leader turned very slowly to peer down his nose at Elijah with a face that Lord Withersby had never seen. Relish glittering in his dark eyes, his look of triumph was nearly frightening.

“Exquisite beyond words.”

Elijah held up his hands in reverence, and in the silence that followed only Michael could be heard, still forcing out his improperly inhaled smoke.

The ladies were engrossed in a pleasant discussion of what was to be done with the rear garden and other estate improvements when Rebecca shot from her perch upon the divan and strode toward the closed glass doors, a hand at her forehead. In the room opposite, Alexi had done the same. They each flung wide the doors at the precise instant.

“Highgate,” the two chorused. All eyes were upon them.

“Again?” Josephine pouted. “Why always in my finest dresses?”

The Guard gathered into Alexi’s two carriages. Mr. Wentworth hardly raised an eyebrow as Alexi helped ready the second team of horses, but Percy was inspired to murmur to Josephine, “Heaven only knows what that family must think.” They stood in the rear garden watching the conveyances being brought out.

Josephine smiled. “I daresay they’re quite accustomed to seeing us on impromptu jaunts. Elijah now and then tickles their minds so that they don’t ask too many questions. They know we’re out of the ordinary, and I secretly think they like us for it.”

“What’s Highgate?”

“The great graveyard, where London’s most fashionable dead are interred. Quite a place to see,” Josephine replied.

They set off, and soon tips of obelisks and angels in the distance heralded Highgate’s approach. Alexi’s hand was pressed firmly over Percy’s, and he stared ahead with fastidious concentration. A congregation of ghosts glowed just inside the fast-approaching gate.

Alexi helped her down once the carriage pulled to a halt. Visiting hours had long since passed, but Michael held out his hand and the enormous locked gate swung wide. A ring
of dead children coiled at the centre, but there was an additional flank of unrest. Adult spirits lined the tall iron gates of Highgate, waiting. Swaying. And speaking. For Percy, there was no bugle call to arms, there was only a torrent of whispers. A dreadful singsong accosted her ears. “Lucy-Ducy wore a nice dress, Lucy-Ducy made a great mess…” The children’s voices filled the air. Percy felt her stomach roil, and she wondered if the head of a cavalry charge felt the same.

“You hear something, don’t you?” Alexi asked.

“They’re all speaking, Alexi, the children, in some sickening rhyme, and the others…Well, the others think you have brought me as an offering. As one of them. But I don’t know what they want.”

“My attention. I’ve been away. These spectral delinquents require the firm hand of a master.” And with that he gestured to The Guard, who darted forward among the grand monuments.

Surrounded by graceful angels, carved mausoleums and fine crosses, a bright, full moon illuminating the scene, Percy couldn’t help but be taken with the eerie light particular to a graveyard; the luminosity of an eternal crossroads.

Her husband lifted a hand toward the children, who suddenly seemed as curious as the adults to see Percy. Tendrils of blue flame snaked forth like ivy from his palm, and he became the great conductor. The transparent adult phantoms squealed and giggled or wailed like banshees, one by one realizing Percy was indeed living flesh. Before they could comment further, Alexi wrapped glowing cords of light around wrists, waists and necks, attaching them in fiery shackles.

The cantus was begun, Alexi insisting Percy join the circle. The Guard’s voices lifted, focusing their power and whipping a wind around them, coalescing their ancient force. Alexi cried out a word in the ancient Guard tongue: the simple call to peace Percy had heard before. The spectres reacted. Some
drifted on, some simply faded, some sank into the ground, perhaps still too attached to their rotting coil to abandon it fully.

The hovering children watched the adult spirits around them fade and pouted, their fun cut short. They again took up their nursery rhyme. “Lucy-Ducy wore a nice dress, Lucy-Ducy made a great mess…”

The Guard’s power rose again, the blue fire crackling forth from their circular conduit, reaching upward in tall flames that tickled the feet of the bobbing young spirits, who sobered, their small eyes angry. “Beware the wrath!” one little girl in a white nightgown called, wagging a finger at Alexi. “He’ll lock you away, he will!” The other children picked up the new taunt. “He’ll lock you all away!”