The Darkly Luminous Fight for Persephone Parker (6 page)

“You should have disassembled,” Alexi said angrily. The horror dodged a blast of fire.

“You fools, you fools!” Its jaw flapped as it spoke for Percy’s ears alone. “There’s no end in sight. It is war, you know, now that the bride is gone. Hell has broken loose. You won’t last. We’ll win you yet! That fight on the borderland was only the begin—”

“Shut your unholy mouth!” Percy spat. Everyone whirled. She glanced down to see that her bosom had begun to glow
white, just like the night prior. Alexi was at her side immediately, embracing, trying to move her behind him, to keep her away from the spirit. But she stood her ground.

“Well, well, so we meet again,” the phantasm mocked. “I take it you’ll try and banish me like you did at the school? You’re such an odd little thing, aren’t you? Are you even human? What are—?”

Percy’s eyes flashed. A tearing sound thundered through the room, and suddenly a dark rectangular portal opened. Spread out behind was a long dark corridor, and hazy forms floated there, seemingly unaware. Surely, the Whisper-world was at hand. Percy felt a churning power gather within her, but she remained unsure how to control it.

“Darling…” Alexi murmured warily, but her eyes stayed fixed on the doorway.

The spirit squealed. “You may banish me back, but I’ll keep trying. We all will. Since the bitch fled, we’re more resolved than ever.”

It cried out as Percy threw her hand forward and, pieces of flesh trailing behind, shot backward as if dragged by invisible hands toward the portal. Beyond, Percy heard a slow singsong chant. “Lucy-Ducy wore a nice dress, Lucy-Ducy made a great mess.” Her blood chilled. She dearly hoped the name was just a coincidence.

“Percy, what are you hearing?” Alexi murmured, a tinge of helplessness in his voice. “Tell me what you h—”

“It doesn’t matter, love, just nonsense,” she replied, forcing herself to remain calm. She took a step toward the portal, needing to clarify the eerie rhyme and yet sickened by it.

“Percy, no.” Alexi took hold of her again.

A tall and glowing spirit stepped suddenly to the portal threshold, raising a firm hand in a command to halt. He was hard-featured and rugged, with fabric draped over a broad chest, metal bands and leather around strong arms, and a wild mane of hair. Jane gasped and clapped hands to her mouth. The spirit reached out a powerful hand, grabbed
the pile of rot by the neck and tossed it to a heap at his feet where it smacked wetly with a grotesque cry.

Scanning them, the spirit found Jane. His eyes sparkled with fondness. “Oh, my dear Jane,” he said in old Gaelic. “How I wish you could hear me and heed my warning.”

“I can hear you,” Percy replied in the same language. Jane whirled, half shocked and concerned. The rest of the group stared, wondering what new and surprising detail would follow.

“Oh!” the spirit declared. “Are you…? Wait! Oh, pardon me, my lady, the power has awoken you.” He fell to his knees.

“No.” Percy blushed. “You needn’t…Please, sir, do get up.”

He beamed as he stood. “My name is Aodhan. I was a member of The Guard ages ago, and I guard still. There’s a change comin’, and I’ll help be your guide, White Woman, but not now. This portal shouldn’t be open long. It attracts the unwanted, and The Guard daren’t enter.” He tapped his temple with a transparent finger. “Isn’t good for the minds.”

Percy nodded. Her companions could do nothing but watch.

“Do me one favour,” Aodhan continued. “I know my dearest Jane cannot hear me. Would you please tell her, in private, that I love her?”

“It would be my honour,” Percy replied.

“Now, I don’t rightly know how this opened. I don’t suppose you know how to close it?” Aodhan asked.

Percy whirled to Alexi, who was clearly perturbed by the one-sided conversation. “How did I close the portal last night?”

“I…believe you…cast your arm out,” he replied, his hand a vise upon her.

Percy reached up and closed her hand in a firm fist. With a popping sound, the door began to shrink. Aodhan waved good-bye, receded from view and the door was no more. All
eyes fell upon her. She stared at her hand, and again at her body, whose light had faded, and shrugged with a nervous smile. “Well…it seems I do have control over the portals, though I’ve no idea how I opened it in the first place.”

“You were angry,” Michael stated. “You were feeling threatened.”

“Who was that man?” Rebecca barked. “Jane, he kept looking at you.”

The Irishwoman’s face was a mixture of confusion and fear, so Percy cut in swiftly. “His name is Aodhan, a member of The Guard long ago, and he pledges his help.” Jane offered Percy a furtive, grateful glance. There would be a discussion sometime soon, but a moan from Van Courtland recalled them all to their task.

Briefly, Percy caught Alexi’s attention. His sculpted lips thinned, and the crease upon his brow deepened. His grip upon her arm did not relent, even when she shifted slightly and said, “It’s all right, Alexi. For the moment, all is well.”

“I certainly hope so,” he said. Percy frowned as he released her, smoothing his dark clothes. He moved to examine the stains upon the floor left from the supernatural melee. Glancing up, he waved a hand and the dim room was suddenly well lit by tall gas flame.

With Jane’s aid, Van Courtland again resembled a human being, if not much of one. Josephine tried to keep his gaze on her visual benediction, but his eyes would not stay open. His pulse was faint. He would not rouse. His breaths were shallow. When Elijah came over and examined him, they all shook their heads.

“It may take him a while to recover,” Jane said sheepishly.

“If he shall,” Rebecca remarked. “It’s all right, Jane, it’s not your fault. You did everything right. We all did.”

Percy eyed Alexi in alarm. His stoic face betrayed nothing, yet Percy, who had spent so much time taking in his most minute details, saw sadness in his eyes. He addressed
her evident concern. “We cannot save them all. But we…usually do, Percy. We usually do.” When she nodded and took his hand, the pinched look around his eyes eased slightly.

Michael went to each member of the group and placed a thumb upon the centre of their back, imparting a frisson of comfort, offering a smile to rally them from the hopelessness they felt when such a vulgar and oppressive session ended thus. Elijah wandered off to soothe a few screaming maids who had somehow eluded his spell; after a wave of his fingers they would bob away, cleansed of all intrusion.

Michael and Alexi lifted Van Courtland and disappeared with him into the master bedroom. To his staff and family it would appear that he’d merely fallen ill, comatose, a mysterious ailment from which he would hopefully someday awake.

Rebecca, having catalogued the particulars of the room the moment of their arrival, rearranged its contents to their exact prior placement, save the broken decanter and glasses, which she gathered into a small leather bag that she cinched and hung at her side. She caught Percy staring and explained, “The less evidence of destruction of his property, the better hope for recovery.”

Alexi and Michael returned, and without another word the entire group made its way through the dark and now-slumbering house. “I’ll bring the carriage to you, Percy, wait here,” Alexi commanded.

As he disappeared around the corner, Percy worried at his cool tone and the way he’d reacted to the portal. Things simply happened around her. It wasn’t that she was trying to be trouble, but that spirit had been provoked by her, perhaps was more malevolent because of her. She heartily prayed for Van Courtland.

“Nicely done with the doors, Miss Parker, I think you’re a quick study!” Michael exclaimed at her side.

She turned to him, grateful. “Thank you, Michael. I rather needed to hear that.”

“Knowing hearts is my talent. Though, I wish my words were always perfect.” He glanced unconsciously at Rebecca, who was taking more notes outside the town house door.

The carriage rounded the corner. “Now that you’ve seen the Grand Work, what do you think?” Alexi asked as he approached Percy, collecting her firmly against him.

“You were incredible to behold, my love. Truly, Alexi, The Guard is a wonder.” She thought a moment. “Music to fight the spirits. How odd and incredible. It’s like it comes from the very air.”

Alexi shrugged. “It wasn’t we who determined our weaponry; our talents were set long ago by men and women now forgotten. Inspired by Muses, tuned by the heavens—I suppose they thought every restless spirit needs a lullaby. A Greek chorus, the holiest of holies.” He smirked. “Would you rather we shout at them?”

“No, no, there’s enough noise as is.” Percy chuckled.

“Alexi, old chap,” Elijah called, gesturing grandly. “You and your fiancée—good God, how odd to say that—ride in the best carriage as guests of honour. Josie, you come, too. The rest of you divide up among yourselves en route to Athens.”

Percy noted out of the corner of her eye that Rebecca’s mouth thinned, masking a grimace. Perhaps, she thought, the headmistress was used to riding at Alexi’s side; perhaps she had grown attached to little habits that Percy’s presence would upset. The headmistress turned and began to walk away. Michael trotted after her with a tiny, “Wait, dear Rebecca. Wait for me.”

Percy wondered if the headmistress didn’t see, or refused to see.

“Alexi,” Josephine began as the carriage jolted off toward the centre of London, “I’ll take charge of your lady’s apparel.”

“Ah, good. Spectres and phantasms mustn’t derail us, we’ve a wedding to prepare.” He glanced at Percy, who gave him a joyous smile. “Bring the bill for what you buy her, Josie, and I shall remit.”

The Frenchwoman turned to Percy, beaming. “There’s a woman in Covent Garden—not the most reputable part of town, but her work’s swift and exquisite. She tailors for the royal all the time—”

“Josephine,” Alexi interrupted. “Do not have my bride looking like an act in a halfpenny theatrical.”

“And why not?” Elijah cried, giving a sharp-toothed grin. “You stalk about all day in sweeping black robes. Isn’t it fitting to have your bride trailing iridescent textiles like a votaress of Diana on her way to the…well, the sacrificial altar? Oh, Miss Terry’s Lady Macbeth at the Lyceum sports a gown of beetles’ wings. Can you imagine? That would be quite fitting, Your Royal Eeriness.”

“You didn’t want to treat me to a ride in your carriage,” Alexi accused. “You wished to torture me.” Percy giggled.

“The sweet lady has to know what she’s getting into. You must have worked mighty magic indeed to have her so moony-eyed.”

“You mustn’t tease Alexi so about his manner, Lord Withersby,” Percy said. “I’m far more the misfit. As for moony-eyed—well,
I am…naturally.” She blinked her opalescent eyes.

“I suppose you have a point,” Elijah allowed. “Goodness. Your union—simply terrifying. Children living near your estate will tell such tales.”

Alexi chuckled, pleased by the concept, but Percy let loose an audible gasp. “But I know nothing of estates! I’ve no dowry, nothing to bring to this marriage. I haven’t the faintest idea how to run a household. No one at the convent ever thought—”

“Darling,” Alexi said. “We shan’t be a couple who entertains or makes a show of things like many of our station. Our destiny isn’t for such luxuries. I believe your peculiar talents far outstrip domestic economy.”

“Oh. All right then.” But Percy was not convinced. The thought of making a home was as overwhelming as any supernatural task that lay ahead.

Josephine beamed. “Don’t worry, Percy, The Guard will come calling. Besides, the Wentworths have been silently running the place for years. They’ll run it just as smoothly with you as an addition.”

“And more happily.” Elijah snorted. “To have something sweet and dainty to look after, rather than His Royal Eeriness, Minister of the Constant Sneer…”

Percy glanced at her betrothed. “You don’t sneer. Do you?”

“See?” Alexi offered blandly to Elijah.

“Perhaps you’ve been spared, Miss Parker. So far. But, beware. Who knows what may happen now? My God. The bravery, my dear Miss Parker, the bravery of your young heart! Oh! Take note, Miss Parker—you see?” Elijah cried.

Percy turned. Alexi was indeed sneering. She laughed. “Why, I’ve never seen that look before, Lord Withersby. You must be its sole inspiration.”

As Elijah folded his arms, Alexi changed topics. “Percy, we must discuss what’s to become of you, as you cannot in
good faith continue as a student. Athens is central to our work, and I want you near. We’ll find a place.”

“Thank you!” Percy exclaimed. Having only spent a quarter at Athens, she was quite fond of its stately Romanesque halls. It was the first public place imparting any measure of comfort, offered primarily by her friend Marianna and then Alexi.

“So much change,” Josephine breathed. “We’ve been waiting for our seventh for so long, and now that you’re here, Percy, everything can change.” She glanced hopefully at Elijah, who shifted a bit and turned to stare out the window. Though she tried to mask her disappointment, her expressive face hid nothing from Percy. Alexi seemed oblivious, lost in thought.

The carriage stopped, and Alexi helped Percy from it. Tucked quietly into the middle of London, the surrounding buildings seeming to have turned their backs, a veritable castle of red sandstone rose before them. Percy shielded her eyes, gazing alternately at the familiar rough-hewn bricks, at her new friends and her new fiancé. Students milling about on the stairs stopped to stare. Percy, as Alexi ordered, hadn’t draped a scarf around her head. Her tinted glasses remained somewhere in her room, and her white-blue eyes strained against the light. Alexi waved all the youngsters away, gliding smoothly into his role as professor even if his battered attire did not match.

The second carriage pulled up. As the others disembarked Alexi said, “Thank you for escorting us hence, we ask you to keep time until tomorrow morning’s ceremony.” Reaching out a hand for Percy, he led her up the stairs. Turning, he interrupted a burgeoning conversation between Michael and Elijah, discussing which club had the best cigars. “Mr. Carroll, my good vicar, may I beg a favor?”

“Anything at all,” Michael replied, striding up to meet him.

“Would you be so kind as to fetch my sister? She would be furious with me if she missed tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes, Alexi. Alexandra
must
be present!” Percy exclaimed. It was not long since a harried evening spent at Miss Rychman’s quaint cottage, the home a welcome respite from the spectral hound whose jaws seemed bent on searching out Percy. She prayed it had indeed been put to rest.

Alexi fished in a coat pocket. “These notes ought to suffice for the distance. Tell the driver Nine Hampstead.” Percy, glancing at the assembled Guard, noticed Jane was absent, but she was distracted when Josephine took her other hand and whispered conspiratorially, “Percy, you must meet your friend and tell her your news. Now, I’m off! You won’t be disappointed.” She strolled toward the theatre district, casting one final glance at Elijah.

“Rebecca, your office, in a moment,” Alexi directed. The headmistress nodded and disappeared through the main doors. “Percy, my dear”—Alexi steered her, opening the door and gesturing her inside—“I’ll escort you to your hall, but then I must discuss how we inform the faculty of our new…status. I’ll leave you to your friend and come to call on you this evening to bid you good night. You’d best not take my arm until we’ve properly informed the faculty.”

“Of course.”

Alexi leaned in as they traversed the entryway. “Although, I wouldn’t mind giving that dreary Mrs. Rathbine palpitations by seizing you in a kiss right here in the middle of the school.”

Percy blushed and giggled, and nearby students stopped to stare. “You can’t, Professor,” she murmured. “All think you inhumanly cold and without humour. A glimpse of affection would destroy your fearsome reputation.”

“Right you are, Miss Parker,” he replied. “Right you are. Now, Percy, speak nothing of The Guard or recent phenomena—not even to your dear friend.”

“Alexi, if I told anyone of last night’s particulars, I’d be deemed mad. However, Marianna will insist—”

“Say that your fever worsened and I took your care upon myself. As for our marriage, it needs no explanation other than that you’re madly in love with me. Wedlock was the only way to keep you from making a fool of yourself,” he declared, a sporting light in his eye.

Percy stifled another giggle, and side by side they opened the glass-paneled doors to the small cobblestone courtyard between the Athens clerestories. Blinking from the light, she lost her smile to a sudden thought. “But, what of the institution at large? Privately the thought of scandal thrills me, but everyone will question a sudden marriage between professor and pup—”

Percy heard the squeal before she saw a figure fly at her.
“Mein Gott!”
cried a young German voice. Percy choked as arms flew around her neck. “Where in the whole”—she fumbled for a choice English declamation—“
bloody
whole world have you been? I thought you were dead!” Marianna, her fair cheeks blazing and her wide green eyes filled with tears, noticed Alexi. She whirled, breaking from Percy. “And you! You! What on earth did you do?” she cried, closing the distance to stare up at him, brandishing her fists and offering a few German curses for emphasis.

“Marianna, please.” Percy blushed and tried to grab the petite blonde by the arm, but her friend stood her ground. Two female students sitting on the angel fountain fell into immediate gossip, and a few male students, eyebrows raised, thought it best to disappear into their dormitory hall.

Alexi, a full two heads taller, eyed this furious German who had taken to Percy on her first day, and whom his betrothed simply adored. He offered her a gracious expression, which only seemed to infuriate her further.

Percy finally pulled Marianna back and attempted to smooth her friend’s disheveled scarf and russet vest. “Marianna,
my sweet, hush! Professor Rychman has meant me no harm, I am well again and everything is wond—”

“No! When I last saw you, you were nearly dead. What on earth happened between yesterday and this morning…?” She turned again upon Alexi. “What spell have you cast over her? She was heartbroken just the day before, and you—why you look like you were in a brawl!”

“Marianna, there was no magic!” Percy insisted. “There was a great misunderstanding. Calm yourself. I have news, happy news.”

Alexi spoke gently. “Miss Farelei, I understand your confusion. Please accept my apologies for any wrongs you feel I have done Miss Parker. I do not presume to know the confidences you may have shared, but rest assured I have only Percy’s interests in mind, and would stake my life on her welfare.”

Marianna blinked at him, scowling.

“Marianna.” Percy took hold of her friend’s hands. “We are to be married. Tomorrow morning. Here at the chapel. Alexi Rychman is to be my husband!”

The blonde girl’s jaw dropped, and it was a long moment before she could speak. “No. You jest.”

Percy held up her ringed finger. Marianna turned to Alexi, gaping.

“It’s true, Miss Farelei,” he answered. “Please do us the honour of attending.”

Marianna turned back to Percy, whose cheeks were scarlet, and screamed. She threw her arms around Percy and then, in turn, moved to throw her arms around the professor.

“There’s no need to make a scene. Good God!” Alexi grimaced, awkwardly patting the girl’s shoulder in an effort to extricate himself. Percy hid her face. Even she knew better than to embrace the stern Professor Rychman in the middle of the academy courtyard.

“I would have never dreamed it!” Marianna cried, and
Percy hushed her into a whisper. “I never thought I’d hear the end of her incessant pining over you.”

“Marianna, honestly,” Percy scolded. She noticed Alexi’s mouth curve.

Her friend wore a wide grin. “How can you hush me? You cannot expect such exciting news to escape bold outbursts.”

“Ladies, if you will excuse me, I will leave you to your blushes, giggles and other absurdities. I’ve much to attend. But, please, as we’ve yet to inform the rest of the institution, try not to get everyone in an uproar.” The twitch of a smile remained on his lips, and Percy’s blush persisted. Marianna giggled as he bowed slightly to Percy. “My dear, I shall come for you later this evening.”

Marianna turned to Percy, who was drinking in the sight of her betrothed disappearing into Promethe Hall. Immediately they both screamed and embraced, creating a bit of a scene. “Come, come.” Percy dragged Marianna into the next hall. “We must tell Mina, the Apollo librarian. She’ll be so shocked! But she’s fond of me and the professor, and I’d hate for her not to be included.”

Marianna couldn’t stop giggling. “I daresay shocked faces will abound when you waltz through Athens in a wedding dress.”

The Whisper-world remained messy. Some of the spirits had torn themselves limb from limb; countless others had hurled themselves against Darkness. He’d grown weary of swatting them into pieces. Once he locked away his opposition once more, satisfied that they were appropriately wasting away, he glided in the form of shadows to the Groundskeeper’s side. “Progress?”

“Slow,” the Groundskeeper replied. He fussed with bottles and brooms along the corridor strewn with ash.

“Steady,” Darkness said. “And keep undoing the seals. Be. Quick.”

The Groundskeeper nodded, groveled and waited for the telling shadows to disappear. Then his singsong voice, a mixture of every lower-class accent throughout the farflung reaches of all empires, echoed out: “Lucy-Ducy wore a nice dress. Lucy-Ducy made a great mess.” He carefully swept up the ashes, pausing at points to fill a number of open glass jars using a garden trowel. He chanted at the piles of dust, “All the king’s sweepers and all Ducy’s ash, still will put Ducy together at last—”

A breeze swirled by, followed by a pack of wild spirits, and ashes tumbled off for what could be miles. The hollow-faced gentleman gave a pitiful howl and scrambled to catch the fleeing specks. The same spirits tore screaming down another corridor, inciting all those around them to lift up in banshee wails, and the Groundskeeper clapped his hands over his head in frustration, wiping his brow with his coat sleeve. “Why did this have to happen, my sweet Dussa-Do? Oh, look at you, you’re all around me.” He sighed and let loose a strange yearning sound. “Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!”

He fell to his knees, scattering the remains of his charge about him, picking up fistfuls of dust and massaging them with greedy hands. It was everything he could do to not roll about in the pieces. His breathing grew laboured before his mottled eyes closed with shame and he released his hold. He hung his head and began to weep. Locks of black and gold hair spilled from his tattered seaman’s cap over drawn features almost too dirty to be seen. “If I can put you together again, you’ll tell me who did this to you. And you’ll turn such eyes to them! But for now, I’ll touch every piece of you. I’ll track down every last speck. And when we put you together again, you’ll turn such eyes, you will!”

He jumped up and tore off down a diagonal corridor. “West, east, north, south, another seal, another seal!” He sighed, putting his hand to his throat where the attack of his master still smarted. “So much work before war!”

Her office door flew open, scattering papers everywhere. “Alexi,” Rebecca groused, “will you ever—?”